Apples and Cherries
by daphnebeauty
Summary: Something happens to completely upturn the lives of Castle and Beckett, throwing them into an adventure that tests and pushes them to their extremes. Mystery, action, and love ensue.
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: I started writing this in September. So it takes place in a very AU summer after Season 3. The Cappy is still alive. Josh hadn't been introduced. They never kissed undercover. You get the idea. On with the show..._

_..._

Chapter One:

There was blood in her hair. On her hands. It was all over her white blouse making her look like a living breathing Pollack masterpiece. _Living and breathing_. _At least I'm living and breathing_. None of the blood was hers, which made it feel foreign and unwanted on her body. She scratched at her neck where the little rivulets of blood had dried and begun to crack. Looking to her left, she saw Castle with his hands gripped tightly on the wheel of the car. There was a small fresh cut on his knuckle and she idly wondered what it was from. The thin set of his mouth was framed by a series of lines that seemed to age his profile beyond his true years.

She turned her head back to the road and tried to force the incessant ringing from her ears. After several minutes in vain, she decided that maybe the ringing could stay. It couldn't possibly be worse than the silence that reigned in the car. Not a word had been spoken between the two in hours and she wondered if she should break the stand off and just ask him something. Those lines around his mouth had sprouted twins that were hanging onto the corners of his eyes. They were nothing like the lines of mirth that usually decorated his face when he laughed. These were lines of pain. She looked away again and chose to stare out the window as the lights of a thousand endless restaurants flashed by. She should say something. She really should say something. _Come on, Kate. Just break the silence. Say anything_. But nothing seemed right, so she kept her mouth shut.

It was taking Castle a long time to get to her apartment. She looked at the restaurants that lined the street. None of them looked familiar. Castle turned the wheel at the next intersection and pulled into an open space on the curb. She looked over at him and then back out the window.

She could see his reflection distorted in the glass. Even the reflected image of the man exuded torrents of anguish. His face overlaid the glass doors to his apartment building, but the two couldn't have been more different. Castle was closing off. She couldn't read him. He was no longer a window or a door or whatever metaphor seemed handiest at the time. He was walling himself in. _Oh boy_. Now she had to say something.

"I thought I asked you to take me home." They were perhaps not the kindest words, but at least she'd broken the spades.

"My place was closer." His words were short and without the usual lilt. He exited the car and walked around the front towards her door. She remained seated on the passenger side and watched his journey to the sidewalk. His head was held high, but his eyes were looking downward and his shoulders carried none of the pride and confidence of their normal daily load.

A strong part of her wanted to reach over, honk the horn, and shock him into his usual demeanor. He needed to get back into the car and take her to her place. She remained in the chair even after the air rushed in from the door that Castle opened, in the hopes he would receive her tacit message and take her home.

"Come on, Beckett. Get out of the car." His voice was tired and laced with impatience.

_Pick your battles, Kate. This isn't the fight to wage tonight. Other things are more important._ She stood, resting her hand on the frame of the door. "We need to talk."

"I think I am all talked out for the night, thanks. If you have any questions, they have my statement down at the precinct. Right now, I just want a beer. A beer and some TV."

"Ok." She looked at the man in front of her and ached to smooth the lines of his face with her hand. He had been through so much today. She had blood on her hands literally, but he had blood on his hands figuratively. She knew from experience which one was worse.

He turned from her and walked up the steps to the lobby beneath his loft, pressing the call button for the elevator. The doors opened with a grandeur that seemed completely out of place for the events of the day. She followed him into the lift and stood near his side, wishing that the lights weren't quite so bright and that Castle wasn't standing quite so far.

Four floors later and they were exiting the bright cubicle of the elevator into the much darker hallway. He rattled around his keys and swung the door open for her. She walked into the apartment and breathed in the familiar scent of rich wood. It smelled like him and it instantly filled her with a sense of comfort and peace. Things were quiet here, but not like the horrendous silence that had deafened her in the car.

Castle made a beeline for the refrigerator and retrieved two ice-cold bottled beers. Bringing them back into the main room, he practically fell onto the couch and closed his eyes.

Taking a deep breath, he spoke to her in an almost defeated voice. "Sit down. Have a drink."

Kate made a move towards the couch but then looked down at her clothes.

"Um, Castle? I think I need to get this," she motioned to the blood that seemed to cover every inch of her upper body, "off of me before I make myself at home on your sofa."

"Right, right," he said distractedly, not really looking at her. He had barely looked at her all night. "My shower is just right through my room, there. Go ahead and get started. I'll lay some fresh clothes by the door."

Giving the man in front of her a lengthy stare, she furrowed her brow. She wished he would look at her. Pausing long enough to tempt a glance from him, she was vastly disappointed. His gaze remained fixed on his lap.

"Thanks." She walked away from the couch reluctantly, wishing there was something she could do. She passed behind him and couldn't help but run her hand along his shoulder lightly with just her fingertips. To comfort herself as much as him.

…..

She turned the shower on as hot as she could stand it and soon found herself naked and standing under the most wonderfully cleansing water in the world. Her father used to always lecture her about the proper way to wash a car. "From the top down, Katie!" His voice rang in her mind.

She started with her hair. It was matted with blood, but the water washed it all away surprisingly quickly. She used a shampoo and conditioner that sat on the shower bench. She didn't know what she had been expecting, but the gel didn't smell like flowers or fruits. From the moment she popped the cap and filled her palm with the shampoo, the steaming shower began to fill with the scent of Castle. It wasn't his main smell, but she identified it with the man anyway. It was just one of the small underlying scents that compiled into the whole to create an intoxicating blend of understated…manliness. Clean, but comforting.

After every single bit of blood was washed from her hair, she used a washcloth and soap to scrub at the rest of her body. The soap was labeled "Mint and Rosemary" and it too smelled refreshing, but incredibly light. Almost as if it just wasn't there at all. It didn't smell so much like Castle, but given how subtle the scent was, she wasn't surprised. It made her feel clean, quite a feat considering she had been covered in someone else's blood.

She remained under the hot water long after the blood was gone. The walls of the shower had steamed up and Kate laid her hand against the glassy surface. When she pulled it away, it had left a handprint. She smiled to herself and then took her finger and traced the letters of her name. K-A-T-E. The K had a bit more flair than she usually wrote it with, but she thought it looked rather nice anyway. It's not like she had drawn little hearts around it or anything. After a few more minutes in the shower, she figured she should probably rejoin Castle and take him up on that beer.

Turning off the stream of water, she wrung out her hair and then stepped out onto the cold marble floor. Reaching for a plush towel, she dried her body off quickly. Scrubbing her head upside down with the towel she flipped her hair back. It probably looked like a wet mess now, but at least it would dry quicker this way.

She opened the door of the bathroom a crack and found a neatly folded pile of clothes outside the door. Taking them inside, she quickly put on what he had given her. A black T-shirt that had the first names of the Rolling Stones on it and a pair of Alexis' athletic shorts. The shorts were barely visible beneath his shirt, but it was just for sleeping in.

Feeling much refreshed, she made her way back to the living room to the sound of some sports talk post-game show. Castle was sitting on the couch with his arms spread wide and his head rested on the back. His hair was wet and combed and Kate realized that he must have taken a shower in one of the guest rooms. She walked around to the front of the couch and saw that his eyes were closed and he was sound asleep. She smiled softly and sat gently down next to him. Reaching over and grabbing the blanket to her side, she carefully covered him up.

Careful not to overtly cuddle him, Kate sank herself deeper into the sofa and laid her head on Castle's arm that rested over the back of the couch. Sleep did not come to her immediately as she listened to the dull hum of the sportscasters on the TV. Tilting her head to the side, she took in the man that sat beside her. In solitary moments like these, when she didn't have the energy to fight herself, she imagined what it could feel like to fall asleep next to him every night, and not just the ones after traumatic events.

As she looked at his face in the glow of the TV, the thoughts of the night came flooding back to her. She had been pushing them out and ignoring them for hours, but they were back with a vengeance. The images replayed in her mind, in a hundred different colors that all added up to one black and white conclusion. She knew what she had to do tomorrow. She had known it from the second she heard the gun go off. Tomorrow was not going to be a good day.

Slowly, before she even knew it was happening, Kate fell into an empty sleep.

* * *

><p><em>AN: Well…here is the start of another epic journey. You can thank __**AllusionToAnIllusion**__ for this story. I wasn't actually ever going to post it, but I'm weak and she's a god. _

_The updates for this story will be coming fast. The chapters are a teeeeny bit shorter but you should be getting one almost every day. This fic was the first one I ever wrote, so it needs a bit of…tweaking. I actually wrote this guy before I had even started reading Castle fanfic, so there are a few clichés that I fell into. In my defense, I didn't know they were cliché when I wrote them, but I swear if I have to read another mention of a bear claw in a fic, I'm going to explode. Anyway…I'm trying to get rid of some of the clichés before I post._

_The next chapter will help clear some of this one up, in case anyone was horribly confused or something. Stick with it. I'm gonna make this worth your while. Don't forget to review. Send corrections (or overt sexual advances) to me in a PM._


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two:

_His jumpy, emaciated face hung desperately from his cheekbones and brow like wet tissue paper. The fleshless face of dingy skin and bone jerked every three breaths or so. Castle thought he had seen more lifelike corpses than Dennis Kack. Dead, black eyes stared back at him across the ten feet or so that spanned between them. _Shark's eyes_, Castle thought. As lifeless and sooty as an abandoned mineshaft._

_But none of the similes, metaphors, or hyperbole that Castle's mind jumped to out of habit made any difference whatsoever. Because Kate Beckett was minutes away from death. She was one slip of a finger away from being one more murder count in the city of New York. _

_Castle felt the gun, heavy and cool in his palm as he raised it to point directly at the desolate, cratered face of Dennis Kack. He swallowed the dryness of his mouth and tried to forget that his gun was pointed only inches away from Kate's head as well. His eyes flicked over to hers and what he saw in them scared him more than Dennis Kack._

_Fear. Fear that the man who was clutching her to him so roughly, panting into her ear, digging his nails into her chest, and smashing a gun to her temple would lose control. Fear that Castle would miss. Fear that Castle would hit his mark. Fear that she would die here in an alley, shot by a meth addict._

"_Put the gun down, Kack!" _

_Castle flexed his forearms and adjusted Beckett's gun that he had picked up off the floor after the scuffle. Double checking that the Glock was cocked, he laid his finger on the trigger and prepared himself._

_The laugh Kack threw back at him sliced through his chest like a knife._

"_I'm not stupid. I know what happens if I give her up now. She's my ticket out of here. Put _your_ gun down or I blow her pretty brains out and then yours."_

_He ground his gun deeper into her temple and icy white panic filled Castle to the brim. If only they had waited for backup. If only they had seen that second exit. If only her gun hadn't been the first thing Kack had knocked away. If only she hadn't been so goddamn busy making sure Kack didn't shoot _him_ that she lost the struggle to protect herself. He couldn't lose her like this. Not in an alley to Dennis Kack. Not ever._

"_If you shoot her, there is absolutely nothing to stop me from shooting you!"_

"_Put your gun down!" Kack screamed. A string of white saliva flung from his mouth to hang on his chin, wobbling with the man's excited tremors._

_Castle looked at Beckett's face again. "Don't do it, Castle! Just shoot him!" Her face was contorted with anger and guilt and determination and pain. _

"_Shut the fuck up!" Kack dug his gun into her head harder and she flinched in pain._

"_Let her go!"_

_Kack looked Castle in the eye and then smiled. A terrifying smile. The subcutaneous veins that spidered along his cheeks twitched. "Looks like nobody's going to get out of this one." He cocked his gun and began to laugh. "At least I can take her down to hell with me. She looks like she'd be good…company."_

_Castle locked eyes with Beckett as Kack continued to laugh and move back into the chain link fence._

"_Kate. Close your eyes." Castle spoke softly. She looked at him, her lips parted like she was trying to force out words that just wouldn't come. It didn't matter. He could see it in her eyes. _

"_Close your eyes." _

_And she did._

_A shot rang out and the sound of a bullet ripping through a head was sickening. Castle saw Kate Beckett crumple to the ground, lifeless, as Kack laughed over her body. His brain went numb. All he could see was her blood and her brain and her hair falling all over the dirty pavement of the alley. She was gone. Dead. Just like that. No beauty in this death. No grace._

_Mindless of the bullets Castle fired into his chest, Kack never stopped his laughter._

Castle's eyes flew open and he was momentarily consumed by the pain and fear and shock that the dream had left him with. The dull blue flashes that filled the room from the television left it eerily illuminated. His breath was returning to normal and he shifted on the couch, standing to go to bed. A weight on his left arm kept him down. He looked to his side and saw the sleeping form of Kate Beckett, resting there. She wasn't close to his body; her head merely lay in the crook of his elbow, making body contact nowhere else. Her face was turned toward him and he thought he might have never seen anything more beautiful than she.

Her long eyelashes were casting even longer shadows across her cheeks. Her perfect lips gently closed together, almost in a smile. Her hair was wild and wavy and spread over his arm, although a piece of it had fallen over her cheek. He brushed the unruly tendril behind her ear and took the opportunity to feel the skin of her cheek without fear of the threat of bodily harm. She was as soft as a rose petal and a million times more beautiful. He pressed his lips together as he thought of how he had almost lost her today.

He could see—even through the dim lighting of the room—the intolerable circular mark at her temple from Kack's gun. It was lightly bruised and he used every ounce of willpower he had not to press his lips and kiss away the mark. He hated to see her beauty marred and injured. It reminded him of her mortality.

The nightmare that had awoken him wasn't merely a dream. It had happened just hours ago in an alley during one of their cases. The real life version had ended differently than that of his dream.

"_Kate. Close your eyes." Castle spoke softly. She looked at him, her lips parted like she was trying to force out words that just wouldn't come. It didn't matter. He could see it in her eyes. _

"_Close your eyes." _

_And she did._

_He pulled the trigger. _

_The revolting sound of the bullet blowing open Kack's skull was barely even audible over the gunshot, but it seemed to be the only thing Castle could hear. Kack had fallen backwards against the fence, twisting grotesquely and taking Beckett with him. He landed on top of her and his blood and tissue gushed all over her. She pushed Kack off of her as roughly and stood up as quickly as possible._

_The silence that rang out on the scene was broken by the distant call of sirens. Just a little too late. How predictable. Beckett walked up to him. He still had the gun raised at half-mast and she put her cool hand over his warm one and took the gun away._

"_Castle. Castle, can you hear me?" He hadn't answered right away. He was busy staring at the son of a bitch who lay dead not ten feet away. He didn't feel remorse. He didn't even feel bad. He couldn't really feel much of anything other than the shaking of his hands._

"_Castle, look at me." He turned his head and swallowed. _

"_Yeah. Yeah I can hear you. Are you okay?" He reached up as if to touch the burgeoning bruise on her temple but then thought against it._

"_I'm fine. Are you?" Her brow was furrowed in concern and her hand grazed his forearm._

_Castle looked back at the body and said, "Yeah. I'm good." He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a white, laced handkerchief. _

"_Old fashioned, I know." _

_He brought the white cloth to her face and gently wiped away some of the blood and tissue from Kack. She didn't pull away like he expected and instead let him wipe some of the crimson stain from her cheeks. He was as gentle as he could be, with shaking hands and quivering heart._

_They stared at each other, lost in a moment that was lost in a moment. _

_The arrival of various uniformed men and women to the scene broke apart the frozen rhythm that had seemed to reign after the gun had been fired. Beckett and Castle were separated and they gave their statements. It was dark out by the time they were done and he had decided to simply take her to his place. It wasn't necessarily closer, but he just didn't want to part with her yet. Not after almost losing her. Not while she was still covered in blood like some reminder of what could have been._

_She didn't seem to notice when his path deviated from that to her house. Either that or she just didn't care._

Coming back to the present once again, Castle looked at the clock above the television. 3:47 AM. She would probably wake up in a couple hours and he knew his time with her was limited. He half wondered why she hadn't put up more of a fight when he brought her to his apartment. Maybe she needed him just as much as he needed her. With that optimistic thought, and under the pretense of altruism, he moved his entire body closer to her so that she was pressed fully against the side of his body.

It felt so right and so wrong and landed somewhere exquisitely in between. Shades of grey had never been so black and white. He needed her. Damn the lines and the rules. He needed her body pressed against his. He tightened his arm around her shoulder.

Still it was not enough for him.

So he slowly began to maneuver them into a lying position. His hands moved slower than the ones on the clock. He took his time and tried not to wake her ruin everything. Eventually, he had them horizontal with Beckett on her side next to him. Almost every inch of his front was pressed to every inch of her back. _A perfect fit_, he thought in guilt-laced glee.

His left arm was wrapped around her and his right was the pillow for her head. He could feel her wonderfully delicate puffs of breath on his skin. He pressed his lips to the top of her head and breathed her in. She didn't smell like cherries tonight, but underneath whatever shampoo she had used, he could still smell that essential Beckett smell. Like sunshine and midnight all in one. She sighed and readjusted her body in her sleep, pushing her body back into him even further.

He sighed contentedly in return, thoughts of eternity running through his mind. He thought to himself how crazy he was for not telling her how he loved her. He would do anything for her and she needed to hear him say it. He loved her. He would kill for her. He _had_ killed for her.

* * *

><p><em>AN: Hope this helps alleviate some of the confusion I purposefully flung into the first chapter. I edited the living CRAP out of this chapter, but I did it after I had two (okay three) glasses of wine. So if it just doesn't make sense and there is anything about dancing bluebonnets, let me know. Hmm…dancing bluebonnets. That's nice. How happy. I will quickly, quickly, quickly amend any errors if you PM me. _

_I honestly think this would be in character for them. Beckett would never initiate snuggling with Castle, but I think she might rationalize lying on his arm as okay. I don't think Castle would be able to pass up a spoon-fest. Especially when he's partially emotionally traumatized. Besides. I like spooning. And I'm the puppet master. "I SAY SPOON! SO SPOON!"_

_Loooove youuuuu. Review por favor. _


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three:

Morning didn't break that day in a burst of sunshine and bird songs. It was slow, smooth, and so gradual that it almost snuck up on Richard Castle. Gentle light was filtering in through the huge glass windows of his loft. The sky outside was grey and the air looked soft. Castle had not slept at all after he had awoken from his nightmare. He had simply held onto Kate Beckett's sleeping form and absorbed every ounce of her that he could. Filing the moment away into his memory in that special place dedicated to Kate. He felt her begin to stir in his arms.

He hadn't really thought it through when he had pulled her down next to him last night. All he had wanted—no, craved—was the comfort of her body pressed against his. She was alive and he had been determined to feel each of her breaths as she drew in air and let it fill her chest.

He hadn't made an exit plan. He hadn't thought about what she might do when she woke up. So when he felt her squirm lightly again in his arms as the sun began to warm her lids, he did what came instinctually: he faked sleep. Quickly closing his eyes, he prepared himself for what was to come.

Kate's smooth leg stretched backwards from a bent position and she took a deep breath through her nose. She slowly rolled over in his arms so that her face was inches away from his. Making an indescribable "Mmm" noise, she arched her back in a stretch as she moved her body even closer.

Nuzzling her face into the darkness in the crook of his neck, she shielded her unconscious self from the unforgiving morning rays. He could feel her cold nose pressed against his skin. Her lips moved and he felt them brush ever so lightly on the sensitive skin of his neck as she wetted her sleep-dried mouth. His heart rate exploded in his chest and he resisted the urge to pull her closer and never let go.

She was slowly traveling through the foggy world between sleep and awake and even with his eyes closed, he could tell the exact moment she realized where she was. Her body stiffened and he felt her quick intake of breath.

"Ohmygod." She whispered so quietly that he could barely hear it even though her mouth was right next to his ear.

She began to sit up and he kicked into gear. He tightened his arms around her. Fighting a smile and still in false sleep, he mumbled "No. Stay."

"Castle. Castle, wake up." She continued trying to maneuver herself into an upright position.

He begrudgingly opened his eyes and smiled lazily. "Good morning, Kate."

"Castle. Don't call me Kate while I'm…while I'm..." her voice trailed off as she searched for the words to describe their situation. She ended up just sweeping one of her hands lamely through the air over their bodies.

"Fine. Good morning, _Sugar Lips_. How did you sleep? Adequately, I hope?" She was now fully sitting and trying to push his legs away from her. He sat up and looked over, his smile growing at her general adorable discomfort. Her eyes had narrowed at his new nickname for her. He was glad she seemed too preoccupied pushing at his calves to bother snatching at his ear or nose.

"I slept fine." She pinched the bridge of her nose and rubbed.

"Yeah, I bet you did." Now his smile was almost too much. She had slept in his arms and was admitting to have thought it was a "fine" arrangement.

"Oh, grow up! I must have just fallen over on you in my sleep or something."

"Uh huh. I'll go make us some coffee." Castle stood and made his way to the kitchen, his bare feet padding sleepily on the hard floor. Beckett stood a few seconds later and followed him into the kitchen. She was self-consciously patting at her hair and tugging her tiny shorts down so they were at least visible under the shirt that was swallowing her.

"Nice hair. I never knew bed head could be so…rowdy. Or is it couch head?" Castle smirked at her across the counter.

"Oh, shut up."

She dropped her hand that had been in her hair and gave him an I-don't-give-a-crap glare. She sat on a barstool and let her mind wander to other thoughts. Thoughts of bacon and eggs and French toast. She looked up at Castle and opened her mouth to hint she was hungry.

"I'm thinking bacon, eggs, and French toast. How about you?" Castle asked her before she could say anything.

She smiled. "Sounds good."

She pulled her hair into a ponytail and started to fidget with one of the apples on the counter. After spinning the stem around until it popped off, she settled for rubbing her thumb over its waxy skin. She had a hard conversation ahead of her today, and she didn't want to spend the morning thinking about it. It could wait until after breakfast.

After about fifteen minutes, breakfast was ready and Castle was seated next to her at the bar. They ate in comfortable silence. Castle was in a curiously jolly mood given the events of yesterday. But she would never be able to forget the look on his face yesterday. She would never forget the tightness in his voice, his inability to look her in the eye, the lines that trenched across his face like the front lines of a battlefield. Even now, beyond the curious levity of his mood, she could see deep in his eyes that he was troubled. _And therein lies the rub_. Setting her fork down on the side of her plate, she turned to Castle and took a deep breath.

"Castle, I think we need to talk."

She glanced into his eyes for a moment and then quickly looked away. _Why did I start this conversation like breakup? I guess because it kind of is… He deserves more than a cliché, though._ Taking another deep breath she continued.

"You and I have been working together for three years. And those years have been…unforgettable."

Castle smiled at her words and reached for her hand. "I agree. Yes. Unforgettable."

Kate continued onward, a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. He didn't seem to grasp the gravity of the conversation.

"After yesterday I realized exactly how stupid we have been. You are not a cop. And putting you in those situations is dangerous for everybody. I mean, nobody should have to do what you did yesterday. Nobody. And while I am so, so thankful, I can't let this go on. You killed somebody, Castle. And it was my fault."

She hadn't been looking at him while she was talking. She was looking at her apple and had completely missed the progressive transformation of his facial expression from confused to heartbroken. He had pulled on his poker face by the time she had turned her big, green eyes on him.

"It wasn't your fault." He said because he couldn't think of anything else to say. He could barely think at all.

"It was. It _was_ my fault. I should never have exposed you to such dangerous situations. It was irresponsible and…selfish. I've gotten so used to you and your friendship and it means so much to me that I just ignored reality. I mean, you have a daughter and a mother! You have a family, Castle, and I refuse to be responsible for them losing you."

The words were coming back to him. "But what about you! You need me! If I hadn't been there yesterday, you wouldn't—you wouldn't be here today! You'd be dead. Your brain would be just another stain on the New York streets."

"Believe me, I know that. But maybe if you hadn't been there, I wouldn't have deluded myself into thinking that you were adequate backup and waited for officers to arrive. It was negligence on my part. It could have killed us both and this is not the first time it has happened."

"But I AM adequate backup! I have always been there for you!"

"And that's my point. You _shouldn't_ be there. It isn't appropriate, Castle. We just can't work together anymore. I need to be able to do my job and so do you. You can't write if you're dead."

"I also can't write without inspiration."

"Oh, who are we kidding, here! You have enough material on me to write Nikki Heat for the rest of your life. You don't need to follow me around anymore for your books."

"It's not just about the books anymore."

Kate sucked in a breath. _Was this it? Was he finally going to voice what they had both been dancing around for so long?_ Their eyes caught and everything around them seemed to simultaneously freeze and come to life at once. Kate could swear that she heard a resettling crossbeam in the wall of the loft like it was pressed right against her ear. At a loss for words, she simply stared at him. Waiting.

"It's not just about the books anymore, Kate. It's so much more. It's like…it's like I finally have a purpose and reason for waking up in the morning. What I do everyday _means_ something now. It's like my life was just…hollow before this. It's the same for you, I know. You do this because you HAVE to, because you know what's out there and you can't just sit by and do nothing. And neither can I. Not anymore, at least."

It wasn't the speech she had been expecting. All of the passion was there, it just wasn't directed at her. He was expressing a side she hadn't seen before in him, although she knew that side all too well in herself. The addiction to justice.

"I wish this could go another way for you. I really do. But the fact remains that you just cannot be with me anymore. You_ killed _somebody yesterday. Do you not understand that?"

He stood and leaned into her space, disbelief distorting his face.

"Understand? Of course I understand. I understand that he had a gun to your head. He was seconds from killing you, Kate. Do _you_ not understand what that means? Do you not understand what that would have done to me?"

She shook her head, refusing to let his emotional logic sway her decision. It would be hard, but it had to be done.

"I refuse to let it happen again. This is goodbye, Castle." Kate stood from her stool.

"Goodbye? _Goodbye!_ So that's it, then? That's all this meant to you? You can just walk away from it all?"

"It's what we have to do."

"Fine. Then just leave. I won't be bothering you again." Castle swallowed painfully and then strode quickly into his office, shutting the door forcefully behind him without actually slamming it.

Kate fought the burning in her throat and clenched her teeth together. She hadn't meant goodbye _forever_. She still wanted his friendship; she just couldn't _work_ with him anymore.

Beckett had never seen Castle this angry or hurt before and she had no idea how to fix any of it. Taking a few uncertain steps in the direction of his office she sighed. Now was not the time. He was angry and hurt and probably needed time to cool off. Walking quickly out of the front door and shutting it behind her, she leaned up against it and forced the tears forming in her eyes to disappear.

She was losing her partner, but she was saving him too. She was saving the man that he was: the man who knew how to light up her often very dark world. If that meant Castle was mad at her for a while, so be it. She would see sense for the both of them.

* * *

><p><em>AN: Ahhh…He was going to tell her how he felt and then she pseudo-broke up with him. Poor Castle Bear. His troubles are only just now starting… the plot is about to thicken. Stay tuned. _

_And review. Stay tuned AND review. Because I'm addicted to them and I after I post a chapter, I sit by my email and refresh it every 10 seconds for the next three hours, looking for reviews. I love them._


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four:

His apartment was too quiet. His beer was too stale. His stubble was too scratchy. His face was too pale. Seven days. It had been seven days since he had set foot in the precinct. Since he had laid eyes on his detective. Since he had felt any semblance of normalcy. Richard Castle had spent the week torn between anger, despondency, and pure emptiness. Today, emptiness was making a grand vie for supremacy.

He was slowly peeling the label off of his beer, picking at the edges that had come loose. He wasn't deep in thought, just staring at the dark brown glass of the bottle and wondering if he should risk another sip. It had gone flat and warm hours ago, but his mouth needed something to do so he took another swallow. Not even grimacing, he rested the bottle on his knee again and went back to picking at the label. His eyes had lifted to stare out of the window, but the world seemed annoying and surreal. There was too much sun lighting the streets below.

Maybe if Alexis had been home, things would be better. He would have at least been forced to put on a face for her instead of sitting in his own filth. He missed her sweet smile and wished she could be there to bring a little bit of sunshine into his life. Things were just too dark right now.

He stood and walked over to his desk, pulling out a wooden box from the drawer. Unlatching the golden clasp, he pulled out the handful of envelopes that lay within. They all had the same dainty handwriting spelling out the address of the loft. He opened Alexis' first letter and read it for the millionth time. Her penmanship was nothing to make a calligrapher jealous, but it was so unique to her. The letters weren't too big or bubbly, but the weren't small and scratchy either.

_Dear Dad,_

_Everything here smells like pine trees! I guess I never expected camp to actually include trees and a lake and canoes and campfires. It always seemed like something that only happens in movies. Surprisingly enough, it is the perfect amount of cliché and I am enjoying myself already. I really like my bunkmates so far. Anna has red hair just like mine but much shorter and she can tell ghost stories that rival yours! Rebecca is really shy, so I don't know very much about her yet, but she seems nice. Mia is really pretty and will try almost anything. We are planning some major sabotage on the boy's camp for tonight. It would make you proud, Dad. Tomorrow the councilors are announcing the play that we will be performing. Everyone here seems so talented so I am a little worried that I won't get a role. I love you and I miss you a lot._

_Love,_

_Your Baby Bird_

Castle smiled softly at his daughter's letter. He thumbed through the rest of the letters she had sent home from theatre camp in Washington. He hadn't been entirely enthusiastic about sending her to the opposite end of the country for a something she probably could have done right here in New York. But Alexis was almost 18 and he knew she was itching to spread her wings a bit and fly from home. If sending her to a far away summer camp made her happy, then Castle had decided he would be happy too. But he really could have used another pea in his pod at this moment. He opened her most recent letter and read, hoping her words would fill the gaping hole he felt in his soul.

_Hi Dad,_

_Camp has been real great. I got the lead as Desdemona in Othello and I couldn't be happier. I have less time for camp activities though, since my rehersals go much later. I still haven't been able to figure out just how to act the line "__O, woe is me. To have seen what I have seen, see what I see!" I don't want to overdo Desdemona's passion, but the line certainly calls for a little something extra, wouldn't you agree? You're advice means alot to me, but don't worry, I'll be sure to ask Grams as well. All of the oak trees here are so much fun to climb. I can't wait to see you again. Your the best!_

_XXX,_

_Lex_

Castle's brow creased a bit at her goodbye. Alexis hated being called 'Lex'. Maybe the nickname had finally caught on at camp. He smiled at the thought of her finally giving up on her lifelong resistance to any form of her name other than Alexis. Something still felt a little bit off about her letter, but Castle was tired and he couldn't quite put his finger on it. He stood from his chair again and left his study for the first time that day. Alexis' words hadn't cheered him up, per se, but they had at least given him the energy he needed to grab a fresh beer.

Making his way to the kitchen, he saw her apple still sitting on the counter where she had left it. He stared at it like it was the enemy. Fruit of the original sin. Cursed apple was the catalyst for the downfall of Adam, and here it was again, reminding him of his similar decent into darkness. Because life without his detective was as dark as it got. He palmed the dark red fruit and considered chucking it as hard as he could through a window or against the wall. Instead, he merely brushed his thumb against the waxy skin and set it back down on the cold counter.

He opened the refrigerator and scanned the shelves for a beer. Any beer would do. But nothing was there. He sighed and closed the door, running a hand over his face. Stubble that could probably classify in the "short beard" category scraped against his palm and reminded him that he could hide from his hygiene, but it wouldn't erase anything from the past week. He made a note to take a shower sometime soon. Not now, but maybe tomorrow.

Beerless, he walked back into his fortress of solitude and sank into the chair in front of his computer. He wiggled the mouse around to wake up the sleeping monitor and was greeted with a chapter he had recently finished for Heat of the Moment, the next in the Nikki Heat line. There was really no point in going back to edit it, he couldn't bear to reread the words now anyway and he was liable to just delete the entire chapter in a fit of childish spite. So he quickly pressed print and then closed out the document. He leaned back in his chair and grabbed the papers from the tray. They were pleasantly warm to the touch and he ran his hand along the freshly inked words. They smeared under the light caress and he inspected his finger pads, each one branded with a smudge of bluish black. He released a bitter laugh. He had killed a man a week ago and no one had fingerprinted him. Here he was inadvertently fingerprinting himself and locked away in an entirely different manner of imprisonment. All for the crime of saving her life at the expense of someone else's.

He tapped the stack of papers into orderly submission and secured them with a staple. Then he set them on the corner of his desk for Alexis to look at later when she finally came home from camp in two weeks. He missed his unofficial editor and flesh and blood spellchecker.

Something in his brain twitched and his nose began to itch. It always did that when there was something he was forgetting. Too bad it was never any use in helping him remember what he had forgotten. His directionless gaze fell on the still open box of Alexis' letters and suddenly the wheels started turning.

Something had been off in her last letter. He pulled it out and reread it in its entirety. He counted five spelling errors. Maybe nothing astonishing for the average American teenager, but this was Alexis. She was his sure fired, fool-proof method of spell checking his own work. Her grammar and spelling had always been nearly flawless. Put together with the use of the nickname 'Lex' and paternal alarm bells started to ring in his head. As soon as his mind had opened to the possibility that something was afoot, things just kept jumping out at him.

He recited the line of Shakespeare Alexis had included in the letter. _"__O, woe is me. To have seen what I have seen, see what I see!"_ That wasn't from Othello at all! That was Ophelia from Hamlet! Suspicions all but confirmed, he was filled with a heavy and unbearable sense of dread. Stomach cold with panic, he scrambled for his cell phone that was buried beneath papers on his desk and scrolled for the number to Alexis' camp. Pressing the 'call' button, he waited with his heart pounding in his ears, listening to the empty and taunting sound of the ring.

Once.

Twice.

Three times the phone rang. Each time drawing out longer than the last, until finally a youthful voice answered the phone.

"Nature's Stage Youth Camp. This is Allison, how can I help you?"

Castle barely let the girl finish speaking before he let his rushed words tumble forth into the receiver of the phone.

"Hello, my name is Richard Castle. My daughter Alexis has been in your camp for the past four weeks. I was wondering if there was a way you could put me in contact with her. It's urgent."

Everything was going to be fine. There was nothing wrong. He was just being a paranoid father. This would all go away in a minute. He just needed Allison to confirm it. He needed her to tell him that Alexis was off at rehearsals or in a canoe or off pranking the boys. His mind was trying to soothe his riotous heart. _Just confirm it. _

"Let me check for you, Mr. Castle." There was the sound of quick typing on the other end of the phone and then a long pause. "It says here that Alexis was checked out of camp two weeks ago."

His heart stopped, ripped, and disappeared.

"That's impossible. By who?"

"It says here on file it was her father. A mister Richard Castle."

* * *

><p>AN: Dun Dun Dunnnnnnnnn! And now begins our central conflict...

Three things:  
>1) I don't think Alexis should be an actress when she grows up (I actually have very specific opinions on her future which you guys will see in Russian Roulette when I finally start posting it), but I think she'd have fun at a theatre camp so I sent her there.<p>

2) I know his book is called Heat Rises. I wrote this before I knew that and I just decided to keep the title Heat of the Moment.

3) Yes, Beckett left his apartment (last chapter) in a giant Rolling Stones shirt and teeny tiny shorts with high heels. Enjoy the mental image. There really was no other logical solution. Her other clothes are blood-stained and she's kind of preoccupied with the dissolution of their partnership to give a dancing shit what she looks like.

And don't worry, this isn't a heartbreaking angsty fic. It has it's moments, but mostly I'm not trying to break you guys down into tears. Stick with me. Reviews are love (and sometimes hate).


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five:

Kate Beckett sat in her chair and stared blankly at her computer screen. The curser blinked numbly at her, pleading for her to type something so it could move from the position it had been stuck in for the past half hour. A week had gone by and the 12th precinct had been eerily unoccupied. Only two murders total and they had each been closed in the same day they opened. The first one had been caught entirely on an ATM camera that the suspect had then proceeded to withdraw $100 dollars from his account. Nothing like a criminal mastermind to boost your ego. The second murder had been called in by the perpetrator who admitted his guilt immediately. A case was a case and whether thrilling or not, there was always the never-ending ream of paperwork to be done.

Kate tapped at her keyboard mindlessly. _KBKBKBKB_. It was only about three in the afternoon and she couldn't respectably leave for another few hours. She settled for typing her initials over and over while periodically checking the score of Ryan and Esposito's paper football game. With so little to do, it was a miracle her thoughts hadn't drifted to Castle more often. He only popped into her thoughts every 30 seconds or so. She needed a murder. A really crazy murder that would swallow her up and rescue her from this unbearable stagnancy.

The first few days, her eyes had been constantly drawn to the elevator doors with every ping that rang out its arrival on their floor. She knew it was ridiculous, but she couldn't help picturing him, striding through the doors with his overcoat billowing around him like one of the fictional characters he so often brought to life. She could picture the smirk on his face as he told her _Didn't think you could get rid of me that easily, did you? _

Oh, she knew she had done the right thing. But that didn't mean it was the easy thing. He had been her partner in the truest sense of the word. Maybe it hadn't been official, but that's what he was. A partner. She had tried to call him for the first couple days, just to tell him she still wanted to be friends and had only meant to end their working ties. But for some reason she couldn't bring herself to press 'send' on her phone. He had been so mad and she was honestly a little uneasy with that side of him.

To tell the truth, she was mad at him too. How could he pretend not to realize that everything had changed? The moment he picked up that gun. The moment Kack had cocked his own. The moment he had told her to close her eyes. Everything had changed. He couldn't seriously ask her to let things stay the same. Let him continue on his foray into the dark world of New York City murder and risk the same situation happening again. Or worse. She was surprised it hadn't happened sooner. They had been lucky and she was grateful for it, but Castle seemed to think luck had nothing to do with it. That they were somehow invincible. It made her angry. He had made her feel like the villain for only doing what was best. What had to be done. What should have been done long ago.

She pushed her chair away from the bright white glow of her monitor and spun to the left. Crossing her long legs, she stared at the daily reminder of the infuriating man. His chair. Why was it still sitting there? Almost mocking her with its…Castleness. She knew her anger was being wildly misdirected towards a piece of furniture, but suddenly there was nothing more disgusting to her than that four-legged souvenir of that two-legged moron. It was insulting. Why was it even here? He hadn't been in in a week and he wasn't coming back. Just the way she wanted it. Now to just get rid of this chair.

She stood violently and with purpose. Ryan and Esposito looked up from their never-ending game of flicking the paper triangle at each other, startled by the abrupt movement. Their boss had been…out of sorts for the past few days and the two detectives had a pretty good idea of the cause. If there was any doubt in their minds, it flew out the window when Beckett strode around the tight corner of her desk, hitting her hip on the sharp edge and not even acknowledging it. She grabbed the back of the chair and forcefully yanked it. She walked quickly, dragging it behind her as she turned the corner of the hallway and disappeared from their sight.

Ryan raised his eyebrows at his partner.

"Well, does this mean its official? He's not coming back?"

"Looks like it."

"She looks pissed. Wonder what he did."

"Killed somebody on her watch."

"Yeah, but to save her life."

"Doesn't matter. She's blaming herself."

"It's not her fault."

"I know that. And you know that. But I bet if you tell that to Beckett, you'll get traffic detail for a week."

"That's a sucker's bet. No way."

"Let's just…steer clear of any Castle related topics for a while."

"Done. It's probably for the best anyway. I mean…He did shoot somebody."

"Yeah. Yeah he did."

Both men shook their heads, knowing too well the indescribable guilt that followed the responsibility of taking someone's life. Even when it was a bad guy and there was no other option, it was never easy. And they were trained cops. Castle was just a civilian.

"Well maybe we can still hang out at the Castle lair and play Madden on the weekends. You know, like joint custody." Ryan looked hopeful. He had been on a winning streak with Castle's new toy.

"Doubt it, bro. If she's this upset, I'd hate to see how he's doing."

Ryan nodded absently, picturing Castle's reaction to being kicked out of the detectives club.

Beckett came striding back in at that moment, sans chair, looking oddly relieved and proud. The boys busied themselves with the continuation of their paper football game.

"Don't you guys have paperwork to do?" Beckett asked her teammates.

"Nope. All finished."

"Why don't you guys take off then? I'll call you if anything changes."

Ryan and Esposito made brief eye contact then smiled.

"Yup! See ya, boss."

"Later."

She gave them a small smile. "Bye."

The sudden relocation of the chair had made her feel better in the moment. But now, staring at the empty space it left by her desk, she frowned. Even absent, it was reminding her of him. Brow furrowed, she began typing out the last few forms of the paperwork, deliberately not thinking about the man who was so persistently clinging to her conscious.

Her phone began ringing and vibrating on her desk making an obnoxious racket. She looked down at the caller ID display and sucked in a tight breath.

Castle.

It buzzed again, just as annoying as the man himself. She reached out and clicked "Ignore Call". She stared at the screen, wondering if he somehow knew he was making it nearly as impossible to get work done _without_ his presence as he had when he had actually been there in person. She shoved the phone into her desk drawer and shut it with a little too much vigor, shaking her mug of pens. She glared at the drawer for a moment before lifting her eyes back to the computer to finish up her form.

The phone started to buzz and ring again from within its prison, demanding to be released. _Not without some good behavior_, Beckett thought. Since it showed no sign of quieting, she reached into the drawer exasperatedly and pulled out the phone. Victoriously, she switched the phone on silent and threw it in her desk.

Seconds later, the work phone on her desk began to ring.

"Oh, for heaven's sake!" She groaned. Grabbing her purse and shoving her silent cell into it, she shut off her computer. Kate walked out of the precinct, the phone's distant ringing following her onto the elevator until the doors closed.

* * *

><p><em>AN: DAMMIT KATE ANSWER THE PHONNNNNE!_

_Sorry for the shorter chapter. Never fear. Another will be coming tomorrow like always. It may or may not be out of character for Kate to be mad at Castle. I think if you are reading closely (and know the characters like I think you do) you will kind of see she is more frustrated at the situation. It's just manifesting itself in a way that she can control. _

_Let me know what you think of Ryan, Espo, Lanie, Martha, Alexis, and Monty when I write them. I haven't ever focused on them before, so I'm worried on how their voices come out. _

_This fic does have an element of mystery to it, so I reeeeally want to hear people's predictions (on Alexis, what Caskett will do, what they SHOULD do, and what you are going to do to **ME** when you've figured out what I've done...)_


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six:

"God dammit, Beckett!" Castle slammed his iPhone onto the counter cracking the screen from corner to corner. He didn't care. Three times. He had called her three times and there was no answer. He didn't have the seconds to spare to try calling her again. He had already wasted too many standing here letting the anger flush through his system. He needed to go. He needed to leave. He had to go save his baby.

Taking the stairs two at a time, he sprinted into his bedroom grabbing his brown leather bag from the closet. Stuffing shirts, pants, socks, and underwear at random he filled the bag. He took two strides to the back of his closet and opened a large panel on one of his wooden dressers. Inside was his safe: top of the line and guardian of his possessions. Fingers dancing over the three sets of combinations, he swung the safe open and reached inside. Pushing aside a manuscript for a book he'd never published, he pulled out stacks of hundred dollar bills.

Taking ten bundles of cash, he stuffed them on top of the clothes inside the brown bag. That would be plenty of money. Grabbing his passport he ran out of the room leaving the safe open with the knowledge that there was nothing in there was worth anything compared to the time he was losing.

Back in the kitchen, he picked up his phone to call Beckett again, but it didn't even ring this time. He slid the damaged phone into his pocket and started to head towards the door. Halfway to his destination, he turned around and ran back to the counter. Grabbing a scrap of paper and a Sharpie he wrote the shortest, quickest note he could think of, grabbed a knife, and stabbed the note to Kate's apple.

It was a decision he made in the moment, knowing the odds of her coming to his apartment were slim, especially if she wasn't even willing to take a call from him anymore. As mad as he was that Beckett had appeared to abandon him in his time of desperation, he knew he would need her on this. If she did come over, she would not miss the blood red apple on the counter or the message he had left.

Pushing the front door shut behind him as he sprinted away down the hall and quickly made his way to the street and into a cab, clutching his bag to his chest.

"LaGuardia, please. Take 3rd Avenue to East 125th and then I-278 West. I don't wanna hit the traffic."

Every New Yorker thought they knew the secret to avoiding the city traffic. The cabbie nodded his understanding and then pulled onto the streets. Castle suddenly felt incredibly useless. Sitting in the car did not seem proactive enough to soothe the sheer panic that was still coursing through his blood. He pulled out his phone again and pressed the number to call Esposito. Again, the phone didn't even ring. Staring at the screen and cursing so depravedly the cab driver shifted uncomfortably in his seat, Castle stuffed his broken phone into the leather bag. He'd grab a new phone as soon as he could. Which, at the rate the taxi was moving, would undoubtedly be in thirty years or so.

Routes didn't matter in the long run. He knew that. Traffic was going to be terrible at five o'clock no matter which street they took. He sat in his seat with every muscle tensed and his jaw reflexively clenching at every damn car that cut them off or blocked an intersection.

Almost twenty minutes later, they finally hit Grand Central Parkway and Castle knew it was a straight shot from there to LaGuardia.

"I need to go to the private planes." he told the driver, "Take Exit 7 and follow the signs for private jets."

The driver looked at him in the rearview mirror as if trying to place the face that was flying on a private jet. It wasn't unheard of for a celebrity to take a cab, but they usually had private drivers take them to their private planes. Castle could see that the man had no idea who he was and the relief that filled him seemed out of place. He didn't feel like a celebrity today and he didn't want his departure from New York spread all over page six.

When the cab finally reached the final destination, Castle paid the man and threw his door open. Security for the private jets and their pilots was different than the rest of the airport. Castle flashed his many forms of ID and filled out his flight plan form as quickly as possible. As usual, he 'knew a guy' and was able to push things through with a speed that had him thanking every god he could name. Finally making his way to the hanger, he got into his Citation Mustang Cessna and immediately started going through the preparation checklist. He spun dials, flipped switches, and read outputs like it hadn't been a year since his last flight. When everything was whirring and rumbling like it should, he started his drive out to labyrinth of streets that lead to the runway.

Once at the front of the line, he pulled the plane into position and took a deep and calming breath. He closed his eyes, pictured the strawberry hair and vanilla smile of his daughter and pushed the throttle forward.

Now this was more like it. He could feel the force pushing him into his seat and he pushed right back, glad for the challenge. The small plane picked up speed and Castle _felt _the moment when he should take off rather than read it off the speedometer, although he did it anyway. His stomach dipped as the plane gained altitude rapidly. It wasn't a commercial flight, so there was no need for the gradual incline of larger passenger planes. The Cessna shot into the sky and for the first time in hours, Castle felt like he was actually where he needed to be: shooting at hundreds of miles per hour through the clouds on his way to find Alexis.

One hour later, that feeling had completely worn off. 357 miles per hour no longer felt fast enough as the plane glided slowly towards the west coast. On autopilot, Castle had absolutely nothing to occupy his mind but thoughts of Alexis and where she had gone.

They said her father had taken her, so obviously it had been a man. _Great, I've narrowed it down to 3 billion people; it should be cake after this_. What else could he use? Someone who knew she had been there? That was a short list: his mother, Kate, and probably some of Alexis' friends. He wasn't famous enough to have his daughter be recognized, so he doubted anyone at her camp had figured it out. But even though he wasn't THAT famous, he still had no doubt in his mind that her disappearance was targeting him and not just some random fluke. If someone had wanted to hurt him in the worst way possible, they had done it right. They had found his Achilles heel. The one thing he would never recover from. He had to find Alexis. Where could he have taken her? There had to be some clue, something that would lead him to her. Her letters! Maybe she had put clues in her letters. He reached for the brown leather bag on the copilot seat but withdrew his hand quickly.

The letters.

They were still sitting in his office lying in the open wooden box. How could he have left them! He felt his anger bubble up inside him, hot and unbearable. He clenched his fist and breathed heavily in and out, trying to get his pulse back to normal but knowing he would fail. Anger wasn't going to help Alexis (although those letters might have). He went back to desperately searching his mind for clues to Alexis' disappearance.

Why hadn't he received a ransom note or threatening letter? Why hadn't they shown themselves yet? What did that mean? He shuddered at his first thought: she was already dead. There was no need for a ransom, because they had only intended to kill her. He pushed that thought out of his mind with such force that it pulled a growl out with it. The noise startled him, and he looked at his watch. Only four more hours until he reached Seattle. Racing against time, he chased the sun.

* * *

><p><em>AN: It took me much longer than I thought it would to figure out how the hell people fly a private plane out of New York. Suffice it to say, I failed miserably and made everything up. We are all going to extend our imaginations and pretend that it's REAL! Won't that be fun? Yeah? Please don't hurt me. _

_So, Castle is flying halfway across the country with no phone to contact Beckett with. This is quite a pickle… I'm not a parent, but I'm assuming if your kid is in trouble and you have the means, you'd fly to Timbuktu to save them. Castle knows he needs Beckett, but I don't think he'd waste time trying to contact her further while Alexis is in such mysterious danger. I think he'd fly over there himself and try and contact Beckett on the way. His thought process is kind of...manic...right now. It wouldn't make sense for him to be rational. So I explain later...you'll see.)_

_Also: How many of my readers/reviewers are guys? I've always wondered. I almost always assume female, but I suppose statistically at least SOME of you have gotta be men. _


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven:

Kate Beckett dropped her purse on the floor of her apartment as she closed the door. Breathing in the familiar smell of home, she walked across the hardwood floor and into the kitchen. Sitting on the counter, calling her name was a half-full, day-old bottle of zinfandel. Grabbing a stemless glass from the cupboard by the sink, she poured some of the deep red liquid, enjoying the faint smell of wine that floated up to her. On her way to the living room, she passed by her stereo and flicked it on. The room was instantly filled with the slow and smooth voice of Ella Fitzgerald.

She wasn't necessarily a "jazz" girl. She liked a lot of different music, and for that matter didn't like a lot of jazz. But there was something about Ella that Kate loved. Louis Armstrong's trumpet complemented Ella's crooning as she sang "Dream a Little Dream" and Kate could almost physically feel the heavy stress sublimating from her shoulders into weightless wisps. This was Kate's favorite song although no one really knew that.

She could remember her dad swinging her mother into his arms in the kitchen with a deep belly laugh and an exaggerated twirl to this very song. Johanna Beckett would half-heartedly resist every time with a roll of her eyes and a smile. They danced like they had done it a thousand times. Her hand fit into his like a puzzle piece. His arm would wrap around her waist like it knew exactly where to go. They would laugh and smile and the love would glow from the depths of their eyes. Eventually her father would sweep Kate into his arms and romp around the room with her as well.

"_Stars shining bright above you. Night breezes seem to whisper 'I love you'_." Kate sang along as she sat on the couch and relived those happy memories. Along with her mother's looks she had inherited her smoky voice and although she only sang in public when she was very drunk, she enjoyed singing to herself. When she sang, her apartment felt less empty. She loved her independence and she loved her space, but sometimes the quiet would press in on her like water on a deep-sea diver. Black. Pressuring. Silent.

The quiet could be at its most destructive after emotionally draining cases. The music and singing would lighten it all. Wine, a book, and Ella were how she usually unwound from tough cases, but for the past week she had been unwinding from the complete _lack _of anything resembling a tough case. Not to mention the unforgettable absence of Castle.

She had completely freaked at the station today. No doubt Ryan and Esposito were all atwitter with her behavior and the little display with Castle's chair. She flopped her head onto the back of the sofa and closed her eyes, trying to let the mellow music drown away her thoughts. It was working surprisingly well.

For what seemed like the thousandth time in a day, Castle's blue eyes popped into her mind. She didn't push them away this time. There was no point since they'd just come back anyway. He had amazing eyes. It wasn't the color that did it for her, either. Ryan's eyes were bluer and she never pictured his in her mind. It was the twinkle. That damn twinkle that he seemed to keep in the corners, just for her. Oh, he glinted for other people too, but it was a different sort of light. She loved the twinkle he saved for her. It was almost like a smile and it always left her wanting to twinkle right back. She usually just rolled her eyes instead though. No sense in letting him know that she liked it.

Smiling peacefully, she rose from the sofa. Another song had started up on the stereo and she walked across the floor to her purse. Taking out her cell phone she looked at her missed calls list. Just the two calls from Castle. Perhaps it hadn't been wise for her to silence her work phone. There could have been a murder and no one would have been able to contact her. Feeling guilty, she quickly shook it off and turned up the volume. Ripping off the band-aid, she pressed the button to return the call. If Castle was extending an olive branch, she couldn't run from it forever. Her earlier anger had been over-amplified and perhaps undeserved. She had always wanted to keep the friendship and hiding from Castle's calls was not the way to do it.

Bringing the phone to her ear, she waited for him to pick up. She was surprised when she was met immediately with his voicemail.

"Hello, you've reached the dangerously handsome Richard Castle. Leave a message if you dare."

She rolled her eyes. It wasn't the first time she had gotten his machine, but she could definitely count on one hand the times that she had. Castle almost always answered her calls and his phone was always charged and on (territory of being a parent, she supposed). A loud beep interrupted her thoughts and she quickly pressed the "End" button. There was no sense leaving a message when she didn't even know why he called. She would wait until tomorrow and call him back. Grabbing her half finished book from the coffee table, she made her way to the bathroom and drew a piping hot bath. A good soak would be the perfect thing to complete her relaxing process. No need for bubbles or candles tonight, she just wanted the hot water and her book.

Thirty minutes and a glass of wine later, the hot water had worked it's magic and Kate was ready for bed. Lying there staring at the ceiling she waited for sleep to claim her. Fleeting thoughts of Castle kept her awake a bit longer than she anticipated, but she let them come and go freely in her mind. She would call Castle tomorrow and figure out what to do about the status of things between them. Drifting into the awaiting embrace of darkness, Kate's eyes finally closed and she slept soundly.

…

The following day held much of the same monotony as its predecessor. No new cases had been reported and the sun was steadily making its way to its peak in the sky. True, most murders occurred between 1:00 and 3:00 in the morning, but bodies were usually found in the early daylight hours. Kate was always prepared for the call. Badge on belt, gun on hip, keys in reach, and phone in hand. The anticipation of a potential case was almost as frustrating to deal with as the disappointment when none came.

Kate had long since come to terms with her keenness for murder. She no longer felt guilty when she wished one would come along. Yes, it wasn't the most wholesome hope, but murders were going to happen regardless and she was only hoping they would happen in her district. Once they happened, she never felt glad, but a dark little corner of her mind was always a little bit thankful for the work. Idleness was not Kate Beckett's friend.

There was nothing to do in the station. It was only nine o'clock, but the chances of finding a body after nine were drastically diminished. No murders meant they didn't even have residual paperwork. It must have been some kind of karmic comedy from the puppet master upstairs. The week she tells Castle her job is too dangerous for him, she is stuck twiddling her thumbs at her desk watching a fly bounce maniacally against her computer screen.

Grabbing her cell phone from the desk next to her, she walked into the break room and shut the door behind her. Last night had given her the distance and perspective she needed to understand his point of view. She still wasn't willing to let him come back, but she would definitely do everything in her power to keep him in her life. So she called him.

Again, there was no sound of ringing before his message service clicked on. Without waiting for his recorded voice to finish speaking she hung up and immediately tried again. Same result. Phones only did that when they were turned off, and Castle never had his phone turned off for this long. She knew Alexis was at camp without a phone of her own, but Kate still didn't believe Castle would leave his off for so long, just in case. Even if the chances of a call from his daughter were slim to none, Rick Castle was not the type of father to be out of reach.

She scrolled through her phone book and found the number for his home. This time, the phone rang six times before there was no answer. She let the machine beep her through and cleared her throat as she prepared to leave a message. He had to be home. Where else would he be? She'd talk to him over the machine and force him to acknowledge her that way. He didn't have to pick up the phone for her voice to be heard.

"Castle? Castle, I know you're home, pick up the phone." She used her most commanding voice, not leaving room for argument. She waited for a few seconds and then sighed audibly.

"Castle, please pick up." Her voice was gentler now. "We need to talk and you can't avoid me forever. I know where you live." She waited for him to pick up the receiver and laugh at her half-hearted humor, but no such luck. "Listen…I feel bad about…you know. We really should talk. I'll bring by Thai tonight. Be there or I'm putting out a BOLO."

She paused and waited yet again for him to pick up. When he didn't, she let out a heavy sigh, releasing the breath she had trapped in her lungs.

"I guess you're either really not there or you're still mad. I just—I don't want you to think that I don't value our partnership and our friendship. I hope you can understand that. I just value your life and happiness more. I'll always be there for you, even if you're mad at me. Give me a call when you get this. I'm still stopping by tonight."

She hung up and rubbed her temples. She had meant to save the bulk of that message for when she talked to him in person, but the unresponsive air she had been met with on the other end of his answering machine had somehow persuaded her into spilling out more.

The tightness in her stomach was making her uneasy. From a man who normally answered on her first ring, Castle screening her calls hurt. She would fix it. She would fix them. All she needed was some Thai food. And maybe a little liquor. Leaning back in her chair and plotting the course of the night, a thought occurred to her.

If Castle was screening her calls and hiding from her, then why would he stick around when she had announced when she would be coming over? She figured the chances of him being at his apartment when she dropped by after work were not great. Looking at her father's watch and then glancing around the room full of people busy doing nothing, she decided that she wouldn't be missed if she ran over to Castle's now. It would simply be a very, very early lunch break. Gathering her things, she left.

…

Kate Beckett knew how to sweet talk a man into forgetting his own name, so convincing the doorman to let her slip into the elevator without notifying Castle of her arrival was child's play for her. Carrying a white bag full of pastries and two piping hot coffees, Kate stepped off the elevator onto Castle's floor and walked to his front door. She fiddled with the bag, readjusting its weight in her hand and reaching for her cell phone, thinking to call him one more time before she knocked.

With the phone ringing in her ear, she looked up as she took the last step to his door. Her stomach dropped along with the bag of pastries and coffees. His door was ajar.

* * *

><p><em>AN: TECHnically it's not a cliffhanger since you guys know where he is. It's only cliffy for Kate. _

_In case your timelines are getting scrambled, it is currently the morning after Castle's plane landed (around 6AM his time). Next chapter will swoosh back in time a bit to see Rick and what his next steps are after landing. _

_It was cool to hear from the (very tiny proportion of) guys out there!_

_Review!_


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight:

Castle moved though the crowd at the SeaTac airport, weaving a path through the bodies whose sole purpose was apparently to be in his way. The fluorescent lights and the dull roar of conversations going on around him were causing his head to throb and he wanted nothing more than to just scream and push everybody out of his way.

After making two en route stops to gas up his plane, he hadn't reached his final destination in Seattle until one in the morning. To his dismay, all the kitschy stores and businesses had brought down metal gates over their storefronts. Some of the terminals themselves had shut down for the night and he found himself weaving a circuitous path through the airport to reach his destination.

He was making his way towards the car rental section. Through the remainder of his flight, he had created a plan. A very basic, very quickly laid plan, but a plan nonetheless. He was going to get phone, get a car, drive to Alexis' camp and start asking questions. Someone had to have seen something. He would find a clue. There were always clues.

He had originally intended to buy a phone at one of the electronic stores, but to his vast disappointment, they were all closed. No matter. He had to adapt. He had to push on with the plan. He'd get his car, drive to the camp, and _then_ buy the phone as soon as something opened up.

Approaching a row of obviously advertised car services, he picked the one with no people in line to slow him down.

"I need a car."

"Well of course you do! That's what we're here for, sir!" The chipper young man wore a huge smile and a yellow bowtie and Castle resisted the urge to strangle him with it. He laid his ID and a wad of cash on the desk. The boy's painted expression seemed to falter at the sight of the cash, his eyes growing a bit wider.

"I need a car. Now."

"Well what kind of car would you like? We have several models and a few of them have just been installed with XM radio. You will love the sound system in the—"

"I need a fast car."

Looking at the pile of money, _Ralph_ (as his nametag read) seemed to come to a decision.

"Well, that would be our Lamborghini Gallardo Nera. Reserved for those special customers that we get from time to time. Such as yourself, sir."

Castle knew the car well. He had rented one for a month back in 2007. Remembering the speed that he had torn up the roads with, he was almost sold. He wanted as much speed as he could get. The faster he could get to Alexis, the better. But then Beckett's voice popped into his head. _That car, Castle? Every eye in the city will be watching you in that thing._

No. He needed to blend. He needed speed and he needed camouflage.

"No. I need something more low key. Black or navy." Pointing at the picture of a car on the cover of the brochure that lay on the desk next to his arm. "This car. I want this car."

"That car?"

"Yes. That car."

Ralph gave him some paperwork and a schpiel about insurance. Castle signed on the dotted line and grabbed the keys from Ralph's pink fingers. He took off towards the garage as Ralph called out a generic farewell.

…

Driving down the highway in his black Mercedes, Castle cut another car off. The light flow of cars on the road was moving at a steady rate, but that rate was far too slow for Castle's taste. The new car smell was making his stomach nauseous and he unrolled the window, letting the almost cold west coast air hit his face. He breathed in the night and tried to absorb its innate tranquility.

Thirty minutes later and Castle had abandoned any semblance of obeying the ordained speed limits. He flew down the road pushing 90. He had the money to pay any ticket, and depending on the cop, he might be able to just use some of the money on the spot to get out of it. It wasn't beneath him. Not when Alexis was in question.

It was approaching three thirty in the morning as he finally passed the "Entering Quinault" sign. Pulling over on the side of the winding road, he turned the car off. He hadn't quite thought this part through. He couldn't just show up at a camp at three in the morning. He pulled out his cell to call the front desk, but when it didn't even ring he remembered that it was completely broken.

He'd forgotten that no calls would go out, and based on his lack of missed calls during the flight, he assumed none were coming in either. He turned the phone all the way off and threw it into the backseat. He knew he keep reaching for it like a light switch in a blackout if he didn't get the damn thing out of his sight. Dropping his head back onto the headrest, he closed his eyes and groaned in helpless frustration. How did people _survive_ without cell phones?

He felt lost and alone. He needed to get a new phone so he could call Beckett and ask her why the hell she hadn't picked up the phone when he had called her. This was too hard and too important for him to do alone. Maybe she was mad at him for his anger at her last week. He had definitely not handled the dissolution of their partnership well. Maybe she had installed some sort of secret software that automatically screened his calls and dropped them.

He had no problem imaging her to have the connections to get a program like that. She probably could have convinced some pimply teenage boy to create one specifically for her. She just had to play with a cherry and men were putty in her hands. It was almost comical. Not that he was immune. Oh no, he was far from immune to her cherry trick. But right now, he had issues feeling happy, fuzzy feelings towards the detective. She wasn't here when he needed her. It had never even occurred to him on any of the dark days of the past week that she wouldn't be there if he really needed her.

Scowling deeply he resolved to go to the camp first thing in the morning and grab a hotel for the night. Restarting the car, he pulled back onto the deserted road and drove off towards the signs that denoted "lodging". Pulling into a dark parking lot he grabbed his bag and exited the rental. Walking through the front doors of the lodge he made his way to the lobby. The pamphlets on the desk told him he was at the Lake Quinault Lodge.

The night clerk at the front desk saw the man in front of him and seemed to have the sense not to mess around with this one. He needed a room and he needed it now.

"How can I help you?"

"I need a room for the night. Maybe more."

"Let me see what we have available. It is tourist season, so we are pretty booked." The man tapped away at his keyboard and then leaned in to read the words on his screen. It looks like we have a lakeside room with a queen bed. Will this suffice?"

"Sounds perfect."

"Do you have a card we can put the room on? It's $81 a night."

No. No cards. Castle dropped some money on the counter. "Will this cover it?"

"Yes sir, but we need some ID and a name for the room."

Castle pushed forward an extra hundred dollars. "How about we forget the ID and you put me down as Jameson Rook."

The night clerk looked at the rather mysterious man in front of him. He was sure of one thing: this man was not Jameson Rook. But whoever he was, he had lots money and Victor the clerk did not.

"Yes, Mr. Rook, sir." Handing over a key, he pointed at two double glass doors. "Just walk along the shore path to the left. Room 143."

Castle nodded his thanks and then walked in the direction of the glass doors without a second glance. Pushing through them he was greeted with an immense lawn that lead down to the lakeshore. Ignoring the path, Castle cut across the wet and soft grass finding himself at the water's edge. There was a small path there and he followed it to the left where he could see housing in the distance.

Soon he was unlocking the door and dropping his bag on the floor. The room was nice and smelled like wood. It had a very log cabin feel to it without being hokey. His mind was so tired. He had been riding on adrenaline for almost a full day and it had left him feeling spent. He hadn't been sleeping well that entire week anyway since Kate had…left.

He took off his shirt and reclined on the bed with his jeans still on. He already knew he hadn't packed anything to wear to bed. It was too cold to just wear boxers. Apparently the state of Washington did not care that it was summer and the nighttime temperature had to be hovering at about 55. He stayed on top of the sheets for an indeterminate amount of time before he sat up again. He'd never be able to sleep. Alexis was in trouble and at the moment he was helpless to save her. Rubbing his face with his hands, trying to physically wipe off the images that flashed through his mind. Feeling the scrape of his facial hair and the thick coat of oil on his skin he pushed up from the bed and grabbed the room phone to call the front desk.

"Hello. This is Jameson Rook in room 143. Can I get a razor delivered to the room?" Waiting for the confirmation, Castle thanked the man and trudged to the bathroom. Shedding his jeans and boxers he turned on the shower and waited for it to heat. Turning, he looked at the man he saw in the mirror.

It wasn't him. It couldn't be him. He looked almost grey. Was his life turning into black and white? He wasn't surprised. Without Alexis, there really was no need for color in the world. He wouldn't enjoy it anyway.

Even his muscles looked weaker, like they had finally given up the constant show. He flexed out of habit, trying to bring the man in front of him to life. Scratching his shoulder, he turned away from the hopeless man in the mirror and tested the water again. It was hot. A knock at the door signaled the arrival of his razor so Castle grabbed a white towel and wrapped it loosely around his waist. An unfamiliar young man stood at his door with a basket that clearly contained more than a razor.

"Complements of the lodge, sir. Is there anything else I can do for you?"

Castle took the basket, tipped and thanked the boy, and shut the door. The razor lay prominently in the middle, but the rest of the basket was full of other necessities and a selection of fruit. Apples and cherries. Both were famously delicious fruits of the state and Castle smiled. There was no doubt that the night clerk had sent this small care package. Castle didn't blame him. The man Castle had seen in the mirror looked like he desperately needed a care package.

Grabbing the razor and some shaving cream out of the center, Castle headed back into the now steamy bathroom. Dropping the towel, he stepped beneath the hot stream. It felt unbelievably good. Scrubbing his body thoroughly with the hotel soap and a washcloth, he soon felt better. Well, not better, but at least clean.

Stepping out, he didn't bother drying off and simply wrapped the towel around his waist again. It was a habit he had gained at some point in his young life, but he didn't know why. He just preferred to air dry. Clearing the mirror of its foggy sheath, Castle smeared the shaving cream on his face and finally rid himself of the beard he had been inadvertently growing out. Quickly pausing to ponder the possibility of leaving a moustache, he continued on until it was all gone.

All finished grooming, he pulled a pair of fresh boxers but put the same pair of jeans on. Grabbing a handful of cherries he walked outside of his room and sat on the steps. The view before him was magnificent. He could almost imagine what it must have felt like a thousand years ago, devoid of modern men and utterly free.

The lake was a glittering black sheet. Scattering the reflection of the moon, it looked like a million diamonds floating in an abyss. It was beautiful. He popped a cherry into his mouth and savored the sweet juice. Spitting out the pit, he wasted no time in eating the next. He hadn't had anything in his stomach (other than beer) for days. Before he knew it, there was only one perfect plump cherry left.

It lay in his palm and he stared at it. Cherries were interesting fruit. Wholly unique. Soft and sweet, but you couldn't just bite into them with no regard for the cherry itself. It had a pit and the pit would bite you back. He smiled softly.

He could never eat a cherry without thinking of her. Her smell. Her smile. The cherries reminded him of everything that she was and everything that he loved about her. He rubbed his finger over the tiny fruit and was hit with the wave of pain that unfailingly accompanied thoughts of her lately. Throwing the cherry out into the glassy onyx sheet he watched it hit the water with a plop.

The ripples took a long time to make it to shore and were mostly lost with the natural ebb and flow of the lake that lapped at the pebbles and rocks. Castle closed his eyes to the sound of the wilderness around him and let it lull him into the first serene moment he had felt in ages. Impervious to the cold, Castle fell asleep against the railing of his stairs. Dawn would find him in a few hours, but until then his mind was finally at peace.

* * *

><p><em>AN: Longest chapter yet! Think that might have anything to do with my womanly need to have Castle naked/shirtless for almost 1000 words? Yeah. Probably. But I can't help it. It will probably happen again before this fic is over. Hopefully when he is less depressing. Cuz seriously guys. It's killing me to write him so unhappy._

_More shirtless Castle? Less shirtless Castle (you weirdo)? Let me know. Review!_


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter Nine:

The sound of his house phone ringing from her call flew through the small gap of the door and fell much harder than it should have on her ears. Her heart was beating loudly and she could feel it struggling to break free from her chest and run far away from what might lay behind the open door.

She quietly drew her gun from its holster and adopted the weaver stance. Pushing the door open with her shoulder, she let cop instinct take over and she immediately went through the process of making sure the room was clear. Satisfied it was empty and seeing no signs of a struggle, she lowered her gun to her side.

"Castle?" she yelled, hoping beyond logic that he would yell back.

Hearing nothing she looked around the large open area. Castle would never leave his loft unlocked, let alone not even latched closed. No matter how much security his building employed, no one lived in New York City and left their home open, especially not someone with the assets and net worth of Richard Castle.

Her heart was still hammering in her chest, pumping volumes of adrenaline to even the most distal parts of her. Absolutely nothing seemed out of order. The room looked almost exactly the same as it had when she had left it a week ago. Modern but warm. Classy but comfortable. Her eyes wandering to the kitchen, she spotted something that immediately sent her spine tingling and her mind racing.

A single red apple sat on the counter, gently rotting.

It had a knife stabbed from stem to stub that looked to be pinning down a scrap of paper. Walking quickly to the apple she picked it up and withdrew the knife, holding the paper between the fingers of her left hand. It was his handwriting, undoubtedly, although it was significantly less tidy than normal.

_Apples. Alexis._

It was cryptic and yet the moment Kate's eyes took in the message, she knew exactly what it meant. Apples was his safe word. His word to let her know that something was not okay, something had gone too far, something was hurting him. Normally he used it jokingly, teasingly, or as innuendo. But this was different. This time it was followed by Alexis' name and stabbed violently into an apple. This was no joke.

It could only mean one thing: Alexis was in trouble and Castle had gone after her.

Her phone rang and she fumbled quickly to grab it out of her pocket. It had to be him. He had to be calling her. This macabre message was not enough and he _had_ to be calling her to tell her what he needed. She glanced at the caller ID and her heart sank.

"Beckett."

"We've got a body on 5th and Lex."

"Umm…" Kate searched her mind for words. An excuse. Anything. "I'll be right over. I might be late. I'm kind of tied up."

"Sure thing boss. I think we can handle a crime scene by ourselves for a few minutes."

"Thanks." She hung up, her mind nowhere near 5th and Lex.

Taking a deep breath, she began to steady her emotions. Panic and worry had no place in this situation if she was going to be of any help. And she knew Castle needed her help. He wouldn't have bothered to leave the message on the apple if he didn't. It was a message that was clearly meant for her and her alone. Anyone else would have thought it was some sort of brutal and confusing shopping list.

He had called her yesterday. He had called her and she had silenced her phone and shoved it in her desk. An enormous tidal wave of guilt slammed into her body.

She hadn't been there. She had let petty, misplaced anger keep her from being at his side when he needed her most. The guilt was enough to make her grip the knife in her hand with an intensity that probably would have scared any onlookers. She felt like she had betrayed him. And yet…right there next to her guilt, was the anger again.

He should have tried harder to contact her. Come down to the precinct or come to her home, anything other than calling her three times and giving up. Did he really think he could do this alone? This was Alexis and she would need the best. She would need Detective Beckett, not her emotional and rash father. Growling, Beckett stabbed the apple again with the knife, feeling it's steely tip hit the marble counter. She barely registered the slightly painful shock it sent through her arm.

Both of them had been stupid, but Alexis shouldn't suffer. Kate would be there for Castle. After she found Alexis, she would shoot Castle for being stupid.

Kate vaguely realized that she had absolutely no idea what kind of trouble Alexis was _actually_ in. Slipping once again into detective mode, she quickly flipped through her memories to draw on anything pertaining to the young Castle. She was at summer camp. Castle had said it was in Washington, but he hadn't been specific. This was the first thing she had to find out.

Jogging into his office, she quickly surveyed the room. Beer bottles littered the windowsill and the desk was slightly messy. Here, the office showed all the changes that should occur over a week that the living room had not. Papers were moved. Trash had accumulated in the bin. And there was a wooden box open on the desk.

Her first instinct was to go to his computer and snoop for clues there, but as she got closer to the desk, she realized the box was full of letters. Looking at the writing on the envelopes, she saw they were all sent from Alexis. This was it. Castle must have been reading her letters when he figured out what had happened. She read them through quickly, but found nothing out of the ordinary. Mostly they were about life at camp and the friends she had made there. Frowning at the lack of anything obvious, Beckett stuffed the bundle of letters into her hand along with the message Castle had left her on the apple.

Making note of the sender address of the camp on each of the letters, Beckett made her way back into the living room_. Think like Castle. Think like Castle. What would he have done after he found out? Probably break whatever he was holding and then run off to save the day without me. _

She needed more clues. She wasn't even sure what had happened. Was he? Would he go to her camp or was it something else entirely. Had she been kidnapped? Had she been involved in a jewel heist? Was she hurt? Where on earth was Castle going? More clues. Evidence. That's what Beckett needed and it was sure as hell what she was going to get.

She ran down the hall and headed for Castle's bedroom. Upon entering she noticed the bed was made and the floor was uncluttered. A light shined through the closet door, and seeing nothing obvious in the actual bedroom, Beckett slowly walked inside. Here she found what she was looking for. Signs of Castle. A safe was open and stacks of money were half hanging out. She could see the remains of a "packing rush". Clothes were half off their hangers and some lie on the floor. It seemed he had left in a hurry as she had suspected. He had taken money, but not all of it, which made her suspect that there was not a ransom involved in whatever this was. Feeling like she wouldn't get any further in his loft, she made up her mind to just go.

Stopping by his office again on her way out, she grabbed a leather messenger bag from the floor. Stuffing the letters and message into it she began a desperate search through his drawers for anything else that could be useful. She grabbed a book lying in the top drawer of the desk that was labeled "Information". Flipping through briefly she saw it was filled with names and numbers and addresses. This might help her in her search for Castle or whatever was going on with Alexis.

She swung the messenger bag over her shoulder and surveyed the room once more. She would need to act fast. Calling his phone once again, she was sent straight to his voicemail. She'd expected as much and it did not discourage her determination. Castle was incommunicado for now, but she would not let him down again. She would find him. She would help him. Sprinting from his office, she took off for her apartment to gather what she would need.

* * *

><p><em>AN: Short chapter. Oops. I'm too tired to write a good author's note. I can't tell you how much I love your reviews. An overwhelming amount of you wanted more shirtless Castle but stipulated that Kate should be with him. Hmmm….We shall see… ;) _


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter Ten:

Castle was in his car and driving down the winding roads of the Olympic Peninsula at the first sign of dawn. He had woken up on his porch, freezing cold and with a crick in his neck. He had barely been able to wait ten minutes before he left the lodge to make his way towards Alexis' camp. _People wake up early at camps, right?_ Everything around him seemed to be a different place than it had last night. The ambiguous sea of black that he had been winding through last night showed itself to be an emerald forest full of thick trunked, mossy trees.

Castle had always liked the Pacific Northwest. He would never leave New York, of course, because that city was like a part of him now, but there was something about the sense of wild freedom in this part of the country. Everything smelled cleaner and was quieter and he couldn't picture a murder in this place. Well, that wasn't true. Richard Castle could always picture a murder.

The Lake Quinault Lodge was not far from the camp. He was pulling into the pine needle-covered driveway in no time. The wheels crackled over the gravel as he slowed to a stop and sprung from the door. Heading straight for the main office, he burst through the doors and looked around for any sign of authority. Met with an empty room that smelled like the 1950s, Castle walked up to the desk and binged the bell.

_Bing…Bing…bingbingbingbingbing_

A sleepy looking man walked out from an office in the back.

"Can I help you?"

"Hello. My name is Richard Castle and I'm looking for my daughter, Alexis."

"Alexis Castle?"

"Yes."

"She left a while ago. With her father if I remember correctly…" He looked at Castle skeptically. "Can I see some ID, sir?"

Castle impatiently reached into his pocket for his wallet and began to pry out the driver's license from beneath its plastic prison.

"I assure you I am her father." Placing the ID face up on the counter and pushing it forward, he waited while the man checked it.

"Well, I personally checked Alexis out. And she swore the man that was with her was her father. He had ID too. I am always sure to check."

Castle dug through his wallet again and pulled out a well-worn picture. It had been snapped by Martha a few years ago on a weekend at the Central Park Zoo. Alexis had rejected the offer of a camel ride claiming she had her own personal pack horse and then jumped on his back. His smile in the picture was full of pure joy and love and Alexis was frozen mid laugh at her own antics.

He slid the precious picture forward. "Well you obviously made a mistake."

The man looked closely at the picture and slowly recognition, realization, and finally panic spread on his face. "Sir, this camp is not responsible for any—"

"The HELL you aren't!" Castle slammed his palm on the desk. "What did he look like? Did he say where they were going? Did she? Did she say anything at all?"

"Nothing other than that he was her father. Look, Mr. Castle. I'm not sure what's going on here and I think I had better call the authorities."

"Not yet. Just tell me what he looked like."

"Ummm. Brownish hair? Sunglasses? Medium height?"

"Seriously? That could be anybody!"

"I'm sorry, sir, but I must insist you calm down. I will call the police and we will see what they have to say." The man started to walk away when Castle reached over the counter and grabbed his arm in a death grip. "I beg—"

"Listen to me, now. Something has happened to Alexis. You can call the cops, but I want to be able to talk to her bunkmates now. Or I promise you I will shut this camp down faster than you can say Hamlet."

"Sir, I don't think that would be approp—"

"Hamlet!"

"Alright, alright. Holly will take you to the girls side." He grabbed a walkie-talkie from the desk and spoke into it. "Holly. Holly are you there?"

"Yeah boss. It's early. What do you need." A sleepy female voice answered amidst the static.

"Come to the front desk, there is a man here who needs to be taken to Cabin 8."

"Sure thing."

The radio silence that followed left Castle feeling even more anxious. He stared at the front desk man and looked down at his artfully decorated nametag. _Clint_. Oh yeah. He definitely looked like a Clint.

"Well, Clint. Better call those cops. And I hope to hell my daughter is just fine or it's you I'm coming after." With that, Castle left the building to wait for Holly on the porch.

Castle stood fuming on the porch. How could it have been so easy for someone to just take Alexis? How did nobody notice that he wasn't actually her dad? Why had Alexis said he was? Why wasn't there better security here? Why had he let her come in the first place? Who was he gonna have to kill when this was all over with? Where would he dump the bodies? What exact torturous methods would he be employing to bring about their demises?

Soon, he saw a short blonde woman making her way to the building wearing the orange polo of the camp. He met her halfway.

"Holly?"

"That's me!" She said perkily.

"I need to go to Cabin 8. Anna, Rebecca, and Mia's?"

"Why, yes. I can take you there." She turned and walked down a path. Castle was thankful for her lack of questions. He really didn't want to have to explain who he was and why he was there to another person who would just tell him that they had already MET Alexis' father and he wasn't him.

"Did you know Alexis?"

"Yes of course! She is a wonderful girl. So sad she had to leave early. She was just a brilliant little actress. Everybody loved her."

"Yes. She takes after her grandmother in that sense."

"Yes it's such a shame about that."

"What's a shame?"

"Her grandmother dying. It's why her father took her out early."

"Really? He told you this?"

"No, no. I didn't get to meet him. Apparently he is famous though!"

"Yeah. So I've heard."

"Well, the girls told me that's what she told them."

"Did they say anything else?" Apparently the note of desperation in Castle's voice had struck a note with Holly and she stopped walking along the dirt path to eye him questioningly.

"Why?"

"Oh. Just curious I guess. It doesn't really matter, does it." He tried to give a silly nonchalant smile, hoping it didn't come off as forgot-to-take-my-pills-this-morning crazy. Holly turned and took the last few steps approaching a cabin.

"Right. Well. You can ask them yourself. This is Cabin 8." She knocked on the door a few times and called in. "Hey girls! Get dressed there is a man that needs to speak to you. His name is –" She paused looking at him to fill in the blank.

"Um, Jameson Rook. I'm a journalist."

"Jameson Rook. He's a journalist."

Castle could hear the rustlings of girls waking up and getting dressed. Upon hearing that a journalist was there, one of them squeaked.

A few minutes later, the door opened and revealed three very curious girls.

"Thanks Holly. I'd like to do the interview alone. You know. To keep their opinions legitimate. The readers of the New York Ledger expect the highest quality journalism of their writers." He winked at Holly and then turned to the girls.

"Shall we sit by the lake?"

The redhead answered first "Sure. That sounds fine." She patted down her hair nervously, but walked with confidence as she led the other girls and Rick towards the lake.

Once they were seated on a small dock, Castle looked up into their three very different faces. One looked expectant, one looked terrified, and the other looked curious.

"I guess we should start with names. I'm Rook."

"Anna." Said the redhead, extending her freckled hand. Castle shook it and moved his eyes to the next girl.

"Rebecca." She said quietly, her light brown hair falling into her face. He shook her small hand and then turned to the last girl.

"Mia." One of her dark eyebrows was slightly cocked over a green eye. She was evaluating him. Sizing him up. Her face was slightly distrustful, but mostly curious.

"Well then, lets get started. My article is about the camp, but I'd like to focus mainly on one of its members. Alexis Castle? Her father is famous and the readers love a family full of talent. It's the Barrymore Effect. So…what can you tell me about her."

Anna began to speak immediately.

"She was a really nice girl. Very fun and full of life. Told amazing ghost stories." The girls shared a glance and smiled to themselves at a memory. "They are _almost_ as good as mine. She's just too sweet to pull off true horror."

Castle smiled and knew it was true.

Anna continued, "She was pretty good at acting too. Understated. Definitely not gunning for a spot on the Disney track. I guess it's rare to find someone our age who knows how to lay off the cheese."

Rebecca spoke up, her small voice interrupting Anna. "She was a sure thing for the lead. Everyone knew it. But her dad came to pick her up."

Mia furrowed her brow, "Yeah. About two weeks ago."

Castle continued with his questioning. "Did you guys get to meet her father?"

Anna picked up the feed again. "No. She just came in and told us she was leaving because her grandmother died. She left in a hurry. Left behind a few of her things too."

"What things?"

"Nothing important. Just a few shirts and some letters from home."

"Can I have them?"

"No!" Anna looked at him like he was crazy. Remembering he was a reporter and an adult male, he quickly tried to backtrack. Asking for a high school girl's clothes was a big no-no.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean 'have'. I just meant…look? Just the journalist in me. Always snooping."

Anna seemed to calm down.

"Well, I don't think that's a good idea. A girl's stuff is private, you know."

"Of course, of course. So, did everyone at the camp like Alexis? Did she have any enemies?"

"Not really. You can't help but like Alexis. I'm sure some people were jealous that she was going to get the lead, but it's just camp. We're mostly all here to play pranks on each other and have fun."

Mia spoke up again. "That sounds like plenty for your article…Rook. Anything else you need from us?"

"Um. No. I guess that's it." The three girls stood to walk away. "Wait! One more question. Did anyone here know her dad was famous?"

Anna answered, "Not that we know of. She didn't really talk about it to other people. She said she enjoyed just being normal. Didn't want everyone to think she was getting the role just because of who her dad was."

"Sounds like a smart kid."

"She is. I hope she comes back next year."

"Me too. Me too."

All three girls walked away leaving Castle on the dock with his thoughts. _Well, that was absolutely unhelpful. They hadn't seen the man. They really didn't know anything. _He was still at square one and square two was nowhere in sight.

The morning fog was still clinging to the surface of the lake in front of him and he could hear the distant call of several birds. Everything was so peaceful here. Nothing seemed to fit with the fire and panic that seemed to constantly be at war with his sanity. Taking a few deep breaths to try and push down the fear and uncertainty that kept bubbling up, he picked at a splinter that had nestled its way into his palm from the dock. He'd have to be able to separate his emotions from this. He'd have to think like Kate. Like a detective.

He jumped at the sound of a creaking plank behind him. Turning he was met with the green eyes and serious stare of Mia.

"Hey," he greeted her.

"Hello…Mr. Castle."

* * *

><p><em>AN: Did I just add cornstarch to this story or is the plot thickening on its own?_

_Review, my lovies! Your opinions and theories keep me smiling._


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven:

Boarding pass on top of her duffel bag in the seat next to her, Beckett drove quickly to the precinct. She didn't have much time before her plane was scheduled to take off from La Guardia, but she had to stop by the precinct first and let the Captain know what she was doing. The adrenaline was still coursing strong through her veins like a drug. She could feel it making her focus. She could feel it controlling her heart. She could feel it making her alert and beyond ready for action. She relished its presence. Adrenaline and Kate Beckett had a very close relationship. It allowed her to do her job in high-tension situations and made her feel alive.

Not that she was an adrenaline junkie. She wasn't jumping out of planes or anything. Although there was a side of her that truly loved the feeling adrenaline brought with it. It made her feel superhuman. That's why she owned a motorcycle. That's why she loved undercover missions. That's why she had spent a year of her life doing every crazy thing she could think of (although that may have had more to do with dealing with her mother's death).

Driving into the parking lot, Kate pulled into her spot and quickly walked into the building. She was not dressed for work anymore. She had changed into jeans and a white t-shirt and a plain pair of navy blue converse had replaced the heels that normally clacked down the hallway when she walked. She had owned them since the 90s and they were well worn and fit her feet perfectly. She imagined it's what Cinderella's feet felt like, if Cinderella had gone through a slightly rebellious phase in her youth.

Striding across the floor to the captain's office, she completely ignored the murder board to her left and the questioning gazes of Ryan and Esposito to her right. Knocking on the glass door, she waited to be invited in.

"Come in!"

Pushing to open, she stepped into Montgomery's office and shut the door behind her.

"Beckett! Where have you been? I've got a murder on my hands, about 30 suspects, and not nearly enough man power to have my best detective MIA!"

"I'm sorry, sir, but something has come up." He stared at her, waiting for her to elaborate, impatience ticking at his lip. "It's Castle. He's…in trouble."

"What kind of trouble?" The man's brow was knit together now and his voice had lowered slightly.

"I'm not exactly sure. It has to do with Alexis. I just know that he needs me. Look, he left this note." She handed him the scrap of paper Castle had stabbed into the apple.

"Apples Alexis?" Montgomery read. "What in the hell is this?"

"It's code, sir. I'm sure of it. He and Alexis are in trouble. Their loft was unlocked when I went over this afternoon."

"Have you called him?"

"Of course. He didn't answer."

The Captain looked at her with something akin to pity in his wise eyes.

"Beckett, sit." She hesitated but then sat in the uncomfortable chair across from his desk. "Listen. I'm not one to jump on the rumor train, but the word is, you and Castle had a falling out."

"That's—"

"I'm not here for explanations. I saw it with my own eyes. You've been walking around this precinct like a zombie for the past week. I need more from you, detective. We've got a murder to solve and I can't just send you off on some ridiculous hunch you got from a scrap of paper. I know you miss him, Beckett. I'm not blind. But don't you think you could be reading a little too far into this?"

"No. I'm positive he's in trouble."

Montgomery sighed, leaning back in his chair. He looked older than usual and when he opened his mouth to speak again he was slowly shaking his head and his expression was pained.

"The thing is, Beckett, I'm not. If he were really in trouble he would have found a way to contact you that didn't involve some cryptic message. He would have called or texted or emailed or stopped by. I think that whatever Castle has gotten himself into is Castle's business. You have a job to do. Here. Now."

Kate hadn't really considered the idea that her captain would deny her the time off to go help Castle. It had seemed so obvious to her that Castle needed her that she hadn't thought that the situation may not seem as dire to an outsider.

"Respectfully, sir, I request permission for a short leave."

"Permission denied, Beckett." He saw the betrayed look in her eyes and it almost physically hurt him to decline her request. "Your place is here. You'll see that in a few days when this all blows over."

"My place is with Castle." The words were out of her mouth before she could filter them. Her face the picture of determination.

"I'm sorry, Beckett, but I won't allow it and you're out of sick days. Now get out there and do your job."

Beckett stood and paused, her mind already made up, but her body still catching on. She ran a hand through her hair and then brought it down to her hip where her Glock sat at the ready.

"I didn't want to choose." She said simply. Taking her gun from its holster she laid it on his desk followed closely by her badge. "But I choose him."

She was out the door and halfway to the elevator before her words had even registered fully in the captain's brain. He made it to his door just in time to see the elevator closing with her inside. Their eyes met and he stared after her, her face radiating resolve.

After she had disappeared from view, he continued to stare at the metal elevator doors, her badge clutched tightly in his fist. Esposito and Ryan exchanged wary glances, unsure of what to think about what they were seeing.

"Um boss? Where's Beckett going?"

"Doesn't matter. Time to step it up, boys. This case is all yours."

Ryan and Esposito shared a look of dread. Not from the new responsibility, but from what must have occurred for it to happen. They didn't know what had gone on behind those closed doors, but it couldn't be good.

* * *

><p><em>AN: It's probably a little OOC for Beckett to quit, but I think she might actually do it to help save Castle and Alexis. She's adrenalined up and feeling guilty for not being there to begin with so all of her reactions are going to be pretty extreme. Stay tuned, I **promise** things start getting less annoying soon._


	12. Chapter 12

_A/N: So, if you forgot, Castle is talking to Mia._

* * *

><p><span>Chapter Twelve:<span>

Castle's jaw dropped. "How did you? How did you know it was me?"

"Well, I'm not an idiot, for one. Jameson Rook? Really?"

Castle looked down, almost embarrassed. "Seemed like a good idea at the time."

"Yeah well, it would have been if I hadn't read your books and known exactly what you look like from the picture on the back. Plus you and Alexis have the same eyes."

Castle smiled fondly at the thought of his daughter's sparkling eyes. "Yeah, we do, I guess."

Mia came to sit beside him on the dock, dangling her feet over the edge. "So what's going on? For real."

Castle debated what to say. He really didn't need to be telling a seventeen year old this. This was not her problem and it shouldn't be. Her summer should be full of canoes and flirting and theatre. Not kidnappings and the woes of a father. He turned to her. Prepared to tell her a "parental lie". The kind where everyone knows it's a lie, but because it came from a grown up, it wasn't argued with.

But when his eyes met hers, he was overwhelmed by his need to confide. Wisps of her dark brown hair blew in the wind and tickled her nose. It was selfish, maybe, but she reminded him so much of Kate, that he couldn't help the words that came from his mouth.

"She was kidnapped."

Mia blinked hard, swallowed, and then nodded.

"I gathered that much."At Castle's surprised and questioning look, she added, "You showing up here and asking what her father looked like wasn't really a positive sign."

They sat in silence and Mia flicked a small pebble into the deep green water beneath their feet.

Castle spoke to the green-eyed girl again.

"I don't know what to do."

"Call the police?"

"It's not that simple. I just—I just have this feeling, that I'm the only one that can find her. I've worked a lot with the police and I know they are damn good at their jobs, but I also know that everything they do centers around procedure. And this is Alexis. I can't wait for procedure."

"But can't they help you while you do what you have to do on the side?"

"They'd have me in for questioning half the time. Or under surveillance. And I'd never be allowed to do the things I'm willing to do to get her back if the police are watching me."

Mia nodded her understanding and looked out at the lake.

"What about New York? What about your police friends there? What about Nik—Detective Beckett?"

Castle's face grew even darker. "That's not really an option."

Mia wisely decided to drop it. "Is there anything I can do?"

Castle started to refuse her help automatically, but then he stopped. "Actually, could you sort of just ask around here? Be subtle, but see if anyone saw anything? The cops will be here any minute and I need to leave before they want to question me. I don't have time for it."

"Sure I can do that. How will I tell you what I find out?"

"My phone is broken, but I'll be getting a new one right after I leave here. I'll keep the same number. It's 613-555-4102. I know you girls aren't allowed to have phones at camp, but if you find something that you think might be important, call me on a camp phone."

"No problem, Mr. Castle." She stood up. Looking down at him, she added, "You'll get her back. I know it."

"Thanks, Mia. And be sure to have some fun! I'll let you know one way," Castle nearly choked on the sentence, "or another."

Mia smiled comfortingly and then with a swish of a dark brown ponytail, was gone.

…

Castle fiddled with his new phone. It was an old model flip phone and it felt like the retarded cousin of his iPhone. Castle quickly scrolled through the contacts on his old phone and added a few important ones to the new phone. Finger now hovering over the button to call Beckett, he took a deep breath and pressed send. Pride be damned, she was the best and he needed her.

The phone went straight to voicemail. Better than not ringing at all, but still not good. And this time he couldn't blame a broken phone. Beckett was still ignoring him. His heart sank a little further into his chest and he took a deep steadying breath. Time for one more phone call.

"Hello?"

"Hello, Mother."

"Richard, where on earth have you been? I tried to call you all day yesterday."

"I need to tell you something. Are you sitting down?"

"No."

"Sit down."

"No. Tell me now. What did you do?"

"It's Alexis."

"Alexis? What did she do?"

"Alexis is missing." There was silence on the line. "Mother?"

"Alexis is…missing? What do you mean?"

"She was taken from her camp by someone pretending to be me."

"How did—When did—Where is—"

"I don't really know anything right now. I'm in Washington. I'm gonna find her."

"You better damn well bring that girl home, Richard. Where is Detective Beckett? Could I speak with her?"

"She's not here, Mother."

"She's not in the room?"

"No. She's in New York."

More silence on the line. "You left without her?"

"No. She…couldn't come."

"Don't you lie to me. I know that woman would never leave you at a time like this. What's going on? We need her for this!"

"I KNOW, Mother!" Castle yelled, his frustrations boiling to the surface. "I know we do. But she isn't here. And I can do this. I can find her."

"I'm going to call the station. You can't do this on your own. Playing pretend detective for two years doesn't make you qualified for this. Think of your daughter."

"Alexis is _all_ I can think about. Beckett's not taking calls from me. Maybe you'll have better luck. Try the boys too. I'm going to start working on what I have."

"I hope to God you know what you're doing."

"Me too. Goodbye."

"Goodbye, Richard."

Castle flipped the phone shut and closed his eyes. His mother always handled a crisis with poise, but he had heard the panic seeping into her controlled voice. He would have rather not told his mother at all. Not until he brought Alexis home safe and sound. That way she wouldn't have to feel an iota of the worry he was feeling every minute of every day.

Stuffing the phone into his jean pocket, he made his way through the lobby of the lodge. He asked the young lady working the front desk if he could have a stack of paper and she obliged him with some lodge stationary and a pen. Castle never traveled without bringing something to write with but this seemed to have been one of the many things he had forgotten in his rush to pack. While walking back to his room, he wondered how many other useful things he would eventually discover that he'd left at home.

Sitting down at the small desk in the room, Castle immediately began writing down any and every idea that came to his head. It was usually how he started writing a chapter or a story. He would remove the filter and just let words run rampant on a page.

_Somehow got Alexis to leave without raising an alarm. How?_

_Competitor for a role? _

_Why no ransom? _

_Brown hair, medium height, sunglasses._

_Fake ID_

_Still in the area? Moved elsewhere? Where?_

_Clues in the letters. How to get letters here? Mother?_

_Kidnapper allowed her to write letters. What does this mean?_

The words just kept coming. For every potential answer he came up with, two more questions popped onto the page. Soon he had filled up too many papers and had run out of room on the desk. He spread his work out on the bed, organizing it like a murder board. The timeline that he had created was far too vague for his liking. Two weeks was a long time to disappear with his daughter and he had absolutely no idea what could have gone on in those two weeks.

Once more, anger filled him for not seeing the clues from her letters sooner. Two weeks. It had taken him two weeks to realize that his baby had been taken. As suddenly as it had arrived, the anger left him. He just couldn't fit the emotions inside himself anymore. He felt tired and broken and wanted nothing more than to just wake up from what surely would turn out to be an incredibly realistic nightmare.

The sun was sinking quickly now as the lighting in the room made it harder and harder for him to make out his own handwriting on the pages strewn across his bed. Another day was biting the dust and he felt no closer than before to finding Alexis. He was going to need a miracle and he was going to need it soon.

* * *

><p><em>AN: Sorry for not posting yesterday. Long story short, I was busy with some real life romance. The fairytale kind. Best date ever. _

_Hang in there with Castle and his horrible decision-making. Beckett will be there to kick his ass soon. Is that a spoiler? Probably not. For those of you who thought the Captain was OOC last chapter, just give him some time. Beckett didn't give him a chance to do much of anything before she quit and just left and we've seen in the show that he doesn't—didn't (sad face)—let her run wild on her whims._

_Also: in case you guys were wondering, I am currently watching a guy drink his coffee with a spoon. Like soup. _


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter Thirteen:

Her heart beating loudly in her ears, Beckett sat in the backseat of a cab. She had spouted her airport destination to the cabbie like a robot and hadn't spoken since. She had to keep reminding herself to blink. She knew enough to know that what she had done hadn't fully sunk in yet. She would probably stop breathing when it did. So far, her only symptoms were sweaty palms and wide eyes.

Controlling her breathing, she forced her conversation with Captain Montgomery to the back of her mind. _What's done is done_. She was sure that if she asked the driver to turn around and take her back to the precinct, Montgomery would let her pretend it had never happened. He'd give her a ton of guilt and disappointed stares and plenty of desk duty, but he'd let her come back. She could easily erase her decision and get her gun back on her hip. She felt oddly lopsided without it strapped to her side like she had lost a limb.

But that wasn't an option. Castle needed her help and she couldn't give him what he needed if she was stuck at the precinct.

She hoped Montgomery would eventually understand why she'd had to do it. She understood why he had told her no. She'd handed him a torn up scrap of paper as her only excuse. Castle hadn't called, emailed, texted, or sent up a smoke signal to even hint that he was in trouble. Just the damn stabbed apple with an ambiguous scribbled note. If she were a captain, she wouldn't spare her lead detective either on such a whim. But Beckett knew—she _knew_—that Castle was in trouble and she didn't have the time to round up enough evidence to please her captain. So she'd quit.

She could imagine Ryan and Esposito's faces right about now. Some mix between utter confusion and complete disbelief with a hint of "but she's coming back, right?" She smiled to herself at the image of their mouths agape and eyes wide.

_Lanie. What about Lanie?_ Beckett mentally slapped her forehead. The ME was sure to rip her a new one when she saw her again. Quitting her job and embarking on a quest after Castle was surely news one should tell a best friend. Kate pulled out her cell and speed dialed the morgue.

"Dr. Parish."

"Hey, Lanie."

"Hey, girl! I was just about to call you. Come down to the lab, I've got something interesting on the vic."

Kate laughed something that sounded half maniacal and half joyful. She may have been about to completely lose her mind. Certainly unprompted bursts of laughter were a warning sign? There was a slight pause on the phone, and Kate could tell her friend was trying to put together exactly what had been so funny.

"Something I missed, Kate?"

"I won't be stopping by the lab, Lanie."

"Okaaaay. And why not?"

Kate held back her crazy laugh.

"I quit."

Silence, and then, "YOU WHAT!"

"I quit." Silence again. "I turned in my gun and my badge. About fifteen minutes ago."

"I—I—I don't even know what to say…Why?"

Kate was unsure how much she wanted to explain. She didn't know much to begin with.

"Castle."

"Kate! Stop being so goddamn cryptic! I am gonna need full sentences. Sentences full of verbs and adjectives. What did Castle do?"

"He didn't do anything. But he's in trouble. Or Alexis is." Her mind was jumping around like a frog on LSD. "I'm not really sure what is going on exactly."

"So you just _quit_?"

Beckett's brow furrowed as the humor seemed to fly out of the situation. "I didn't '_just_' do anything! He needs me and Montgomery wouldn't let me go."

Lanie took a deep and steadying breath. It sounded like she had just sat down heavily into a chair.

"Ok. How can I help?"

"I don't know yet. Maybe you can't. I have to find him first. He's somewhere in Washington. I've got a good idea where he went first, but if he's moved on, I might need some help tracking him."

"I'll do what I can."

Beckett smiled softly. "Thanks, Lanie."

"No problem. You're my girl." She took another deep breath, "I just hope you know what you are getting yourself into."

"Me too…Me too. I'll call you when I land."

Beckett hung up her phone and tried to gauge how far from the airport they were. Only about 4 minutes.

"Terminal B, please."

"Yes, mam."

….

Kate disembarked the plane, stretching her legs that ached from the cramped coach seat she had sat in for over five hours. When you bought your ticket hours before the flight, the selections were rarely anything other than middle seat by the bathroom.

She had spent a good chunk of the flight trying lip read the animated owls on the in-flight movie, "Legend of the Guardians: The Owls of Ga'Hoole". The movie looked absolutely terrible, but she had needed to fill her mind with anything but the staggering thoughts of quitting her job as a detective.

She made her way quickly through the airport, following the signs to the car rental area. Picking the desk with no line, she put on a bright smile and sauntered up to a squirrelly looking guy with a yellow bowtie.

"Hello, mam! And how may I be of assistance to you today?"

"Hello…" she looked down at his badge, "Ralph. I need a car."

A few minutes later, she walked away with the keys to a car dangling in her fingertips. Getting to Castle was priority one. She'd given up calling his cell. He'd obviously turned it off. She was hoping beyond hope that he would indeed have headed to Alexis' camp first because if he hadn't she would have absolutely no idea where to go next. _Think like Castle. Think like Castle. _Then the thought occurred to her that Castle would most likely be trying to think like _her_.

Think like Castle thinking like me. Think like Castle thinking like me.

…..

Three hours later and Beckett sat in the front seat of her rental with a giant map spread over her steering wheel. It was getting darker out and she really needed to figure out where the hell she was going. If Castle had indeed come to Alexis' camp first (which she had yet to confirm), he would probably be staying in the area. That was assuming a lot of things. Her confidence in her 'plan' was quickly draining.

She was parked in front of a sign that was welcoming her to Quinault. Turning the car back on, she pulled out onto the road in search of a tourist information center. Following the signs to the building proved fairly easy. There was one about every 50 feet. It seemed Quinault really wanted its visitors to be well informed.

She pulled into the gravel parking lot and locked the car door behind her. It probably wasn't necessary in a place like Quinault, but Kate had been imprinted by the street laws of New York. If you didn't lock your car, it wouldn't be your car for long. She entered the tiny tourist building and found herself surrounded by sweatshirts, caps, mugs, and Native American craft reproductions. Making her way to the front desk, she rang the tiny bell and waited for service.

"Hang on! I'm coming!" A distant voice came from the back room.

An ancient old man waddled up to her a few seconds later. The hair sticking out of his giant ears was more than he had on his entire head.

"How can I help you, Darlin'?"

"I'm looking for a list of hotels in the area."

"Well, you've come to the right place!" He grabbed a piece of paper from a stack behind the desk. It had a very short list of hotels on the front with a tiny thumbnail picture of their façades next to each. There were only five.

"Which one is the closest to the youth theatre camp that's around here?"

"You mean Nature's Stage Youth Camp? Well, they are all about the same distance away, I suppose, but probably the Lake Quinault Lodge. It's the nicest in any case. Expensive though, in case you're on a budget."

If she was going to find Castle, she couldn't let money be an issue. He sure as hell wouldn't. "Nope. No budget. You think the Lake Quinault Lodge would be the best?"

"Oh, by far! People come from far and wide to stay there. It's really obvious from the road. Just follow the signs. Shouldn't take you more than 5 minutes to get there from here."

Kate's stomach filled with nervous butterflies. She was almost positive that this is where Castle had gone. He would have wanted to be as close to Alexis' camp as possible, and if the signs for the Lake Quinault Lodge were as obvious as the old man said, it would have been his first choice.

She smiled at the man. "Thank you so much for everything. You were a big help." She made her way towards the door.

"No problem! If you need anything else, Darlin', you know where to find me!"

"Thanks. I'll keep that in mind." She smiled over her shoulder as she pushed through the door.

…

She sat in her car in the Lodge parking lot, looking up at the giant wooden building. The sun was rapidly falling, but Beckett was having trouble making herself get out of the car. Keys in hand, she sat fiddling with the strap of her bag. Why was she so nervous? It was just Castle. Anything he could throw at her, she'd be able to take. Ignoring the fact, that she wasn't technically a detective anymore and had no gun or badge on her side, Kate let the pep talk fill her with a minor amount of confidence and stepped out of the car.

Reaching the front desk she gave a small smile to the man behind the computer.

"Hi. I am actually looking for a guest who is staying here?"

"Can I have the name of the guest?"

"Richard Castle."

The man typed quickly into his computer.

"I'm sorry, we don't have a guest staying here under that name."

Kate's face fell. She had been sure that this is where Castle would have headed. She had not expected her instincts to be wrong. She let her hands slide disappointedly from the counter in front of her and picked her bag up off the floor, turning to leave. She got halfway to the door before a thought hit her. He had said _under that name_. What if Castle was here, but not staying under his name? He _was_ a celebrity. It was common for them to use a pseudonym at hotels. It was probably even more likely if he was trying to lie low because of whatever trouble Alexis was into.

She walked quickly back to the desk.

"Do you have anyone staying here under…" She paused. She didn't exactly know what Castle's code name would be. She randomly spouted the first thing that came to her mind. "Derrick Storm?"

The man clacked away at his keyboard again. "No, I'm sorry. No guests under that name either."

"How about Jameson Rook."

The man's eyes showed a glimmer of recognition. He nodded his head slightly without looking it up in his computer.

"Yes, actually. We do have a guest here under that name."

"Can I ask what room he is in?"

"Our policy is to call and inform him first that you are here. Can I have your name?"

The fact that she had actually found him was still coursing through her veins, giving her a new energy. Castle's apparent desire to elude her at all costs was not going to get in her way now. She had come too far.

"Actually, I would really prefer to surprise him." She gave the man a smile that held the implication of many wondrous things in store for the man called Jameson Rook. "He'll definitely want to see me."

Victor looked at the gorgeous woman in front of him and had no doubts in his mind that _any_ man would definitely want this particular woman to stop by their hotel room at night. He smiled a knowing smile.

"Room 143. Just walk along the shore path to the left."

Kate gave him a genuine smile as she headed off in the direction he was pointing.

"Thanks, Victor!"

She walked along the shore path, hugging her torso. It was much colder here at night than it was in New York. There was a wind coming in off the lake that chilled her to the bone and her white t-shirt really wasn't that helpful in keeping the goosebumps from forming.

The couple of butterflies she had felt earlier had somehow procreated and multiplied a thousand fold in her belly. She climbed the few stairs up to the door marked 143. Standing in front of it with her hands at her sides, she realized she had absolutely no idea what she was going to say to Castle.

_Why did you leave without me, you absolute idiot?_ was on the forefront of her mind.

Taking a deep breath, she tried to shake the nerves and uncertainty. _It's just Castle. It's just Castle. It's just Castle. _She knocked and the door swung open seconds later. It was just Castle without a shirt on.

* * *

><p><em>AN: THANK MARTHA I FINALLY GOT THEM BACK TOGETHER. Ugh. Now things can stop being so effing annoying. _

_You know that feeling when your ears have been plugged for DAYS and then randomly they just pop back to normal and you can finally hear again? And it's like you forgot how wonderful things sound? How clear everything is? How much better life is when you don't have to hear things like you are underwater? I sort of had that moment, but as an author about my writing. This fic was__ really__ frustrating me and I just metaphorically popped my ears and now everything is so much clearer. I can fix this. It doesn't have to be so crappy! _

_Who's looking forward to the conversation that is bound to take place next chapter?_


	14. Chapter 14

_A/N: I'm going to be switching POVs within chapters (marked with a dotted break). Since it's mostly omniscient, it really shouldn't be toooooo confusing. If it is, let me know and I'll go back to one chapter for each. _

* * *

><p><span>Chapter Fourteen:<span>

"Kate."

The sight that befell him nearly knocked him off his feet.

She stood on his porch, her arms looking like they had absolutely no idea what they should be doing. Her hair was in a ponytail and a few short, curled strands were wildly framing her face. The tight, white shirt she was wearing was hugging her curves and her jeans were riding perfectly on her hips. She looked effortlessly gorgeous.

"Hey."

He had no idea what to say. He had no idea what to even think. _Was he still mad at her? Should he still be mad at her? What the hell was she doing here?_

"What the hell are you doing here?" He saw her flinch at his words and she broke their eye contact, her jaw flexing. He regretted the harsh words almost immediately. He hadn't really meant it the way it had come out.

"I thought—I thought you might," she cleared her throat and straightened her shoulders, "need me." She looked thoroughly embarrassed and simultaneously defiant. Challenging him to deny it. Challenging him to lie to her and say he was doing fine on his own.

He watched a moth beat itself senseless against the dim lantern hanging above her head.

"I—I just—um…Come in?" He held the door open wider and she stepped in past him. He was suddenly completely aware that he had no shirt on and his room was a complete disaster zone. He swiped a hand under his nose and then scratched his head, fidgeting to draw attention away from his awkwardness. It only served to highlight it.

….

Beckett walked into the room. Five hours on a plane plus three in a car had left her looking disastrous. She could smell the airplane on herself and she self-consciously tried to tuck back a few of the renegade strands escaping her ponytail. She was avoiding initiating eye contact with Castle again. Once done, they would be bound to have a much-needed conversation. A conversation she had no idea how to even start.

She looked around the room for the first time. It was an absolute mess. Papers were strewn all across the bed and had migrated to cover part of the floor as well. Every single one of them was covered in Castle's handwriting. One simply read _Where?_ in large letters that had been scribbled and traced over by a ballpoint pen until they were dark, heavy, and nearly piercing through the page. She turned to look back at Castle who was staring at her, his expression unreadable.

She took a deep breath and then crossed her arms over her stomach, preparing for the worst.

"Tell me what's going on."

He seemed to hesitate. His eyes conveying a struggle that she couldn't understand but was almost tangible.

"Alexis was kidnapped."

She nodded, bobbing her head to the words she had almost known for sure were coming. It wasn't a shock. This had been her hypothesis. Every solitary muscle in the face of the man across from her was tense and pained. She moved towards him thinking only to comfort her obviously distraught friend, but the look on his face made her stop in her tracks, hand still extended uselessly towards him. He looked betrayed and rather pissed.

"Why didn't you answer my calls?"

Beckett dropped her hand and let her eyes wander away from Castle. She had expected this.

"Why didn't you try harder to reach me?" she threw back at him. Perhaps it wasn't the best idea to fight with the man who had just lost his daughter, but she'd be no help to him if they still had _this_ hanging in the air between them.

"I was kind of busy, you know, thinking of my daughter. I didn't have time to play phone tag." The sarcasm bit back. Hard.

"Yeah, but who better to help you find Alexis than me? You couldn't take the extra 20 minutes to come to the station and fill me in? Maybe call one of the boys or the captain? Shoot us an email? A text? Anything?" She was yelling now.

"My phone was broken and like I said, my thoughts were pretty damn centered on just getting to Alexis. And you know what? Frankly, I didn't think you would even care! You made your opinions on our relations _quite_ clear!" He was yelling now too.

"Didn't think I would _care_! Are you kidding me?"

"No! I'm not. You kicked me out of your life. Didn't contact me for a week. Ignored my calls. What the hell was I supposed to think?" He ticked her offenses off on two very angry fingers, so she jabbed her own into his chest, her fingernail digging into the skin.

"You were supposed to _know_ me, Castle! Even if I was mad at you, do you really think I would have let that get in the way of Alexis?"

Castle's face was red with anger, but he didn't seem to have an immediate answer. He was running on fumes and angry words, not logic and reason. All he knew was his emotion and the fact that he needed to vent some of it out before he exploded.

"Well maybe I didn't _want _your help!" He pushed her poking finger away roughly.

"That's just stupid." She put her hands on her hips, her face on fire with rage.

"Excuse me?" He took a few angry steps towards her. No way was she backing down now.

"You heard me!" She took the remaining step towards him. Their faces were ridiculously close. His eyes were like a blue gas-fire flame and hers like molten bronze. The anger had led them to forget normal personal boundaries. She could feel his hot breath on her face and was losing her train of thought for the argument.

They breathed angrily at each other for a while, fury still clear on both their faces, but retorts depleted. After a few moments of an intense staring match, she looked down and stepped away, guilt finally beating out her anger.

She pushed a hand over the top of her head and ran her ponytail through her fist. Squeezing her eyes shut she breathed a calming breath that had desperately wanted to be a scream.

"I'm sorry, Castle. I'm sorry for not answering your calls. This could have been prevented. I should have answered and I'm sorry."

She wasn't really mad at him anymore. She understood that a panicked father couldn't necessarily be counted on to make the most reasonable decisions. What was done was done. She was here with him now and that was what mattered. If they wanted to proceed and give Alexis the help she deserved, they had to let go of their own issues.

He ran a hand through his hair, making it stick up at odd angles. "I'm sorry too. I'm glad you're here. Everything's messed up, Beckett."

She turned back to the bed and the chaos that lay atop it. Here was their chance to shift focus to Alexis. Here was their chance to find that familiar, wonderful balance of working theory together.

"So what do you know so far?"

The relief in his eyes shone in a cobalt flurry of gratitude.

"Almost nothing. I visited the camp today, but I didn't get too much out of it. I talked to her bunkmates and they didn't know much. They said she told them her grandmother had died. The guy that took her pretended to be me. Had ID and everything."

"And you haven't gotten any ransom calls or notes or any kind of contact?"

"No. Nothing at all."

"That's strange."

"I know. I just don't understand at all. Who would want to take her, not demand money from me, but still keep her alive?

"And you know for sure she's alive?" Beckett asked the question carefully.

"Yeah. Her letters are definitely in her handwriting and the most recent one was from only four days ago. She's been missing for two weeks."

"That's good news. It is." She put a comforting hand on his arm but didn't let it linger too long.

…..

Kate had touched his arm softly and the feel of it there had been wonderfully comforting. He had felt mostly alone for the past eight days and the simple contact relaxed some of his muscles that had been perpetually tensed. She removed it before he was ready.

She was moving back towards the door where she had dropped her bag. Unzipping it, she rifled through some of the clothes that seemed to have been thrown in and found what looked like a bundle of envelopes.

Alexis' letters. He recognized them immediately.

"I hope you don't mind. I found these in your office. I thought we might need them."

He took the letters from her and smiled his first genuine smile in a long while.

"Thank you."

"I just figured this is what you were reading when you figured out something had gone wrong with Alexis. They were laid out on top of your desk."

"Detective Beckett, you never cease to amaze me."

She broke eye contact and slightly furrowed her brow, almost unnoticeably. Something he had said had bothered her, but he decided to let it go for now.

"Well. Detecting is what I do best." Her tone was almost bitter, but he let it pass again.

"You are the best. I'm glad you're here now." He smiled at her, hoping his words helped to make up for his anger earlier. He really did need her.

She cleared her throat and then nodded towards the letters.

"I read them, but I couldn't figure anything out. How did you know?"

"It sounds silly, but her grammar and spelling sort of gradually started degenerating. If you knew Alexis, that would be a huge red flag."

"I do know Alexis." She smiled, "And you're right, those _are_ red flags."

"She also misquoted some Shakespeare in there. And started signing her name 'Lex', which I know she hates."

"You are a good dad for knowing her so well."

His face darkened. "Yeah. It only took me two weeks to figure it out."

Her hand was back on his arm in a second. "It's not too late, Castle. We're gonna find her. You said yourself, she's definitely still alive. This isn't your fault."

He grunted.

"I'm serious." She tugged his arm a little so he would look into her eyes. "This isn't your fault. And we will catch the bastard whose fault this is. I promise."

He looked into her eyes and saw the surety there. He believed her. Finally, with every fiber in his being, he actually believed that they would find Alexis and get the guy who did this to her.

"Ok."

"Ok." She smiled at him again. That damned Beckett smile that made everything in the world seem just a little bit better.

"What do you say we go through these letters again and see what we can shake out?"

* * *

><p><em>AN: Sorry this wasn't out yesterday. I'm posting this during my break today. I work 12 hours. Blah. Also? I have the plague. I am certain._

_I know you guys miiiight have been looking for a more fluffy reunion, but I just don't think either of them are in a fluffy place. Castle's sexy bare chest is taking a back seat to their communication and Alexis issues._

_Reviews will make me feel better. Unless they are negative. Go ahead and send those ones too, I usually end up agreeing with everything those ones say anyway (**Elaine**? Can you hear me?). I'm working on addressing some of the addressable issues. Castle killing somebody in Chapter Two has NOT been forgotten. It's something that comes up later. This is a long ass story and everything happens for a reason. Buckle in, my friends._


	15. Chapter 15

_Previously in Apples and Cherries...Castle investigated the camp, but no dice. Non-Detective Kate finally got to WA. She figures out Castle is staying under "Jameson Rook" and surprises him at the door. They fight out their issues and then start working on the case..._

* * *

><p><span>Chapter Fifteen:<span>

Kate awoke the next morning with an incredibly sharp pain in her neck. It wasn't one of those moments where you wake up and have absolutely no idea where you are. She knew exactly where she was. She was sitting on the floor with her back against the wall of Castle's room in Quinault, Washington.

What _did_ surprise her was the fact that her head was currently resting on Castle's shoulder. Castle's_ bare_ shoulder, to be more specific. He had never managed to don a shirt last night. At one point in the night he had moved to grab a shirt from his bag, but became distracted by another bout of hypothesizing and the forgotten shirt had remained uselessly flopped halfway from the bag. It had been slightly distracting to her thought process, but she was able to mostly push out the image of his broad, tan chest and focus on Alexis. She just buried herself in the letters.

They must have read them thirty times apiece, making note of anything that could possibly have been a clue to what had happened. Coming up with a few theories based on almost nothing, they must have finally succumbed to sleep at some point in the wee hours.

She lifted her head from his shoulder and looked at the man beside her. His brow was furrowed and his hair was unruly. He did not look like he was sleeping peacefully, which was understandable considering the discomfort of their position on the floor. She slowly stood up trying not to wake him, knowing that even if he was uncomfortable, he still needed the sleep. He looked like hell. Ruggedly handsome hell.

She grabbed her bag of toiletries from her bag. Smuggling liquid onto a plane was as easy as simply not telling the guards that you had them. Kate wasn't one for breaking laws, but she also had had no desire to check her luggage or live without certain necessities. Most people got caught by the TSA when they carried more than the allotted ounces, but Kate seemed to have fabulous luck in passing through without confiscation. She carried the bag to the bathroom and shut the door behind her. Immediately regretting her decision to look in the mirror, she quickly turned around and started the shower.

…

Castle awoke to the sound of the shower being turned on. At first he had no idea where he was, his surroundings feeling entirely unfamiliar. It clicked pretty soon that he was sitting on his floor in the lodge with about a hundred papers full of brainstorms and theories lying around him. His ass hurt like a mother. Groaning he pushed himself to his feet and walked to the sink that sat outside the closed bathroom door. Throwing freezing cold water on his face, he washed away the last dregs of sleep from his mind.

He felt like a new man. Hope was burning in his chest. Hot, electric, and full of maybe. They had come up with actual legitimate theories last night. They might not be right, but they were far more than he had before.

When Kate had walked though his door last night he had literally been granted the miracle he had asked for. He had felt the need to vent the pent up anger that he had been carrying for a week, but deep down, all he felt was gratitude.

She had seamlessly transitioned from their fight to giving him exactly what he needed: the normalcy of bouncing theories and ideas off each other. The back and forth had helped him to feel like he was finally moving in the right direction. Everything felt better now that Kate was here. She was like his personal Wonder Woman. His hero. The gender role reversal didn't even phase him. She had always been his hero. Everything felt like it was going to be okay now that she was here.

He brushed his teeth and then went back to his bag to change his clothes. He pulled a fresh pair of boxers out and quickly pulled the old ones off and exchanged them. Throwing on a plaid shirt he bent over to pick up his discarded pants. Because it is a well-known fact that jeans can be worn for weeks in a row without washing and not be considered "dirty", Castle pulled on the same pair of jeans he'd been wearing for about 5 days now. They were his oldest pair that he could still fit into. He still had a bunch of jeans from his youth stacked up in his closet somewhere, but he didn't count those. This pair was so well worn that the denim was soft to the touch. They never felt constricting on him.

He heard the shower turn off and he started to button up the flannel plaid shirt. Before he was even halfway up, Kate emerged from the bathroom in a cloud of steam. Her hair was dripping wet and droplets of water adorned her smooth skin like dew. The fluffy white towel that wrapped around her body made her skin look warm and tan. Those trusty old jeans were suddenly feeling a bit more constricting than they had a few moments before.

He cleared his throat more to shake himself out of the trance than anything. He seemed to have startled her. She turned around quickly, the towel clutched in her hand.

"Castle!"

He immediately averted his gaze and spun around for good measure.

"I didn't see anything, I swear!"

"I thought you were asleep!"

"I woke up."

"Clearly!"

He stood there facing the door and trying not to think about the fact that Kate Beckett was nearly naked and about 7 feet 8 inches away from him. The last time this had happened, he'd had a rush of burning flames and the eminent potential collapse of her apartment to distract him. This time he was afforded no such graces.

"Castle? Could you hand me my bag so I can get some clothes on?"

"Yeah. Yes. Definitely. Of course."

She snorted at his fumble for words. Snatching her bag off the floor he walked backwards to her, extending his arm out behind him. She laughed. The sight of him must have been ridiculous. Her laugh seemed to lighten his heart and he wondered how he had ever survived a week without her. He heard the bathroom door close behind her as she reentered and he breathed a sigh of relief. That woman knew how to run his emotions on every extreme.

He finished buttoning his shirt up and quickly began looking through some of last night's notes, trying to find that golden egg that would crack the case wide open. Kate reemerged a short while later, her hair still wet, but not dripping.

…

Castle was sitting in the chair by the desk shuffling through some papers. Kate had thrown on the same pair of jeans but a navy blue t-shirt this time. She couldn't help but notice how well Castle was filling out his own shirt. The flannel was stretched across his broad shoulders and he was definitely pulling off this look. She had really only ever seen him in his stylish city-boy mode. It had never occurred to her that he even owned any plaid. She was not opposed.

For what felt like the millionth time since she had seen him, she pushed these dangerous thoughts far, far away and focused on the case at hand. Castle deserved her best. She couldn't be distracting herself with thoughts of Brawny Man Castle at a time like this.

Half sitting half leaning on the desk, she grabbed a few papers herself and began to read through their notes. Absolutely nothing was clicking for her right now so she grabbed the last one of Alexis' letters and skimmed her words again. She basically had it memorized at this point. Her eyes stopped on one of the last lines. _All of the oak trees here are so much fun to climb._

—_Oak trees?_ It had seemed innocuous last night, but in the light of day, something about that statement just seemed wrong. Grabbing Castle's hand she yanked him out of his seat.

"Wha—"

"Just follow me."

She pulled him outside into the crisp summer morning air and breathed in deeply. It smelled like soil and pine trees. It was intoxicating.

"Beckett. What's up?"

"Look around Castle. Tell me what types of trees you see."

"I dunno. I guess evergreens? Pine trees and stuff?"

"Exactly!"

"Exactly, what?"

"Pine trees! Look read this." She shoved Alexis first letter into his hands before grabbing it right back and impatiently just reading it herself. "_Everything here smells like pine trees!" _Kate looked at him as if willing him to start clicking with her.

"Yeah, so? It does smell like pine trees…" He desperately wanted to know where she was going with this, but he had absolutely no idea.

"Right! Exactly. This was written while she was still at camp. Before she was kidnapped. So she was writing the truth. Now hear this! _All of the oak trees here are so much fun to climb."_

He stared at her blankly.

"Come on, Castle! Oak trees! There ARE no oak trees! Look around!"

He was starting to catch on, but he wasn't nearly as excited as she was about catching Alexis' inconsistency.

"Couldn't that just be another one of her clues to drop that something had happened to her? Just another hint that he might not have caught when he screened her letters?"

"It could be, but I don't think so. It's really specific. I think she might have been trying to tell us where they've gone to! Someplace with…oak trees." Her excitement was quickly fading as she realized just how many places probably had oak trees.

Castle smiled kindly at her. It comforted her as much as it annoyed her.

"A lead is a lead." She defended.

"Time for some Google?"

She nodded her head. They went back inside and she whipped out her laptop from her bag. Once again, Castle thanked her for bringing so many things he had forgotten. Before long, they were googling everything they could about oak trees and the Pacific Northwest.

A half hour later, Castle and Beckett read aloud from the list of pertinent facts they had compiled.

"Washington's only oak species, the Oregon white oak, is rare and grows in rocky areas," Castle recited.

"The white oak is far more common in the Willamette region of Oregon."

"They commonly grow in very moist locations-on flood plains, on heavy clay soils, and on river terraces."

"Too often crowded out by species that grow faster and taller."

The lead was becoming more and more solid for them, despite the fact that it really wasn't all that helpful. There had to be a hundred places that could fit that description. They realized this, but after having almost nothing to go on for so long, it felt good to have something. No matter how small.

Castle sighed. "It's something."

"Yeah. I'm afraid it won't be enough. We need more!" Beckett harshly shut her laptop and set it back in her bag.

"There just isn't enough in her letters. She must have been too afraid to put much in there."

"She's being smart, Castle. If he found out that she was slipping out clues…"

Castle's eyes went cold. "Yeah. I know."

"He must read her letters really closely to make sure. The fact that he even lets her send them at all means he wants you to think she is still at camp."

Castle squinted a bit in thought. "That's interesting. I wonder if he knows I know?"

"Well, you've been lying pretty low except for yesterday at the camp. And even then you didn't really stir up too much of a fuss."

"I suppose so."

Beckett had a thought. "You said her last letter was sent four, now five, days ago?" Castle nodded. "Well. It seems like she's due another letter soon. If he doesn't know you know, he'd have made her write you one."

"Good thinking! How should I check my mail? My mother is out of town."

Beckett was already on her phone and dialing, holding the ringing cell to her ear.

"Hey, Lanie it's me."

* * *

><p><em>AN: Did you guys like or dislike the synopsis in the beginning? I had a request for it, so I figured I'd throw it in there. If you guys are anything like me, I tend to be reading like a million at a time and it's annoying to always skim the last chapter before reading a new one (especially with all the finale fics out there)._

_And YES! I have been to the Olympic Peninsula many many times (I've got about 57 family members that live in the exact area I'm describing). My family always stays at the Lake Quinault Lodge. I love it there. When I'm writing, I literally have to go back and delete entire paragraphs that are basically a love letter to the area._

_Now go write ME a love letter and send it in a review!_


	16. Chapter 16

_Previously in Apples and Cherries...Castle and Beckett have started working on the case. Castle caught Kate in a towel and Kate saw him as the Brawny Man. "Oak Trees" is their first break in the case. They've called Lanie to go check Castle's mail for a possible new letter from Alexis. And now for the sixteenth installment..._

* * *

><p><span>Chapter Sixteen:<span>

Castle and Beckett were sitting outside on the porch looking out at the water, cell phones in hand. Kate had finished talking to Lanie almost a half an hour ago. Castle had quickly gotten on his own phone and called his building manager to inform him that Lanie would be stopping by to get a mail key. The two were now simply waiting in silence for Lanie to call them with news of a letter. A letter could mean more clues. And even if there were nothing useful in it, it would still mean Alexis was alive. That was enough.

Castle was deep in thought about oak trees and Shakespeare and shining red hair when Beckett's voice broke the silence.

"Shouldn't she have called by now?" Her voice conveyed impatience and Castle couldn't help the tiny smile that kicked up the corner of his mouth.

"No. I live about twenty minutes away. Add that to the time to actually get the mail. Soon. She should call soon."

Beckett released a huff of air, seemingly annoyed at his patience. Castle, himself, was a little surprised by how relatively calm he had been since Beckett had showed up. That feeling of intense panic and dread had finally left him and he found it hard to think anything could be that bad. Now that he had a real life Sherlock Holmes to help him. It was almost like he had managed to push the personal nature of this particular case into a little box in his mind. Self-defense strategy or just complete denial, he didn't really care. Getting emotional distance was helping him think more clearly.

Not that he wasn't completely out of his mind with worry still. The worry was there. But he was somehow managing to function around it and it was in no small part due to the fact that he had someone to share it with now. Beckett's friendship meant more to him now than it ever had. Or at least he was just now realizing it's immeasurable worth. She had found him. She had flown out of New York to find him using only his cryptic message and some general knowledge about Alexis' summer plans. How did she manage to find him here, anyway?Not that he was surprised, but how had she known exactly what hotel and what room to go to?

"How did you know where I was?"

She looked over at him. Her hair was drying in the sun and it fell in wild waves. Most women, including Beckett on a normal day, would have tamed it into submission with a straightener or curling iron. Castle was enjoying the natural look on her. He wanted to run his fingers over the frizzies that were making a daring escape from the other more tame waves. Her long, dark eyelashes were makeup free and he found himself wondering why she even wore the stuff. She was more beautiful without makeup on than any woman he had ever seen. He liked her all dressed up too.

Now that he thought about it, he couldn't really pick his favorite version of Beckett. He liked them all.

"I told you. I saw Alexis' letters with the camp address and I just googled it."

"No. I mean, once you were here, how did you find me?"

She paused, smiling a little and leaning back on her hands while stretching her legs out. "Well, Castle. You aren't exactly an international man of mystery. It wasn't too hard."

"I guess so." He smiled again, more with his eyes than anything.

"And, come on. Jameson Rook? Not the hardest code name to break."

This time he laughed for real. "I thought it was a good one!"

She joined him with a smile. "Sure, Castle. I guessed it on my second try. Not exactly the da Vinci code."

"Second try?" he was curious to know. "What was your first?"

"Kitten."

His hearty laugh echoed out across the lake and she smiled at the sound.

She waited for the laugh to die down and then gave him the true answer.

"My first guess was Derrick Storm."

"Derrick? Really? Why?"

"I don't know. When I read those books, I always thought he was such a badass. Kind of the ultimate hero. I figured if you wanted to be somebody, you would pick him."

Castle shook his head. "No. I'd pick Rook any day."

"Really?"

"Oh yeah. No question. He gets the girl." She looked down and a very faint blush rose into her cheeks. It was enchanting and elusive. "Plus, you know. He's got a Pulitzer. That right there doesn't hurt."

She laughed and they found themselves once again in an amiable silence. Not even a minute passed before Kate's phone was ringing. She answered it before the first trill was even through, pushing the speakerphone button.

"Beckett."

"Hey, girl. You guys were right. There is a letter in here from Alexis."

Castle seemed to vibrate with anticipation. "Did you open it? What does it say? Read it please."

"Hold your horses there, Castle. I'm getting to it." They could hear a paper rustling in the background before Lanie's voice began to read the letter out loud. Beckett and Castle were silent and hanging onto her every word.

"_Hi Dad,_

_I don't have much time to right. The girls and I are planning on going out on the lake soon and I don't want them to leave without me. I've been so busy with rehersals that I feel like I haven't been spending as much time with them as I should. Othello is being played by my new friend MAX. He is really cute and extremely talented. He is really going places. Last night we sat out by the river under the cherry trees and I taught him how to skip rocks. I know you don't wanna here this, but I think I really like him. Don't worry though. Still you're little girl. I love you._

_XXX_

_Lex"_

Lanie paused before speaking again, the silence on the end of the line confusing her.

"You guys still there?"

"Yeah." Beckett answered.

"Was this all you wanted from me? Just a letter home from camp? What's going on, you guys?"

Castle and Beckett looked at each other, silently communicating just how much they should tell Lanie.

"Alexis was kidnapped." Castle stated, the calmness of his words juxtaposing their message.

"Alexis was kidnapped? But…how do you know? She seems fine from the letter."

"It's a long story." Beckett started. "But she was taken about two weeks ago and we are trying to figure out where she is. She has been dropping little clues in her letters."

"Speaking of which," Castle continued, "can you take a picture of the letter and email it to us so we can have a copy? We need it ASAP."

"Sure. I'll just use my phone and email it to Kate as quickly as I can."

"Thanks, Lanie."

"Good luck, you two." Her normally confident voice was full of trepidation.

"Thanks." Beckett ended the call and jogged inside to grab her laptop and bring it out onto the stairs. Firing it up, She opened up her email and refreshed the page every twenty seconds to see if Lanie's email had come in yet. True to her word, the email pinged into her inbox minutes later.

Kate opened up the image and she and Castle reread the words that they had just heard, searching desperately for clues.

"I thought Alexis was dating that guy named Ashley?"

"She is."

"Then who is this Max kid? That makes no sense."

"Yeah. I've been reading over that part too. I'm positive it's the clue. Look how she capitalizes his name. That's gotta mean something."

"Max…Max…" Kate was wracking her brain for any connection of a Max to anything. Anything at all.

Castle seemed to be deep in thought too, his finger picking at the denim at his knee.

_Oak trees and cherry trees and Max and Othello and Lex and the river and bunkmates and skipping stones and rocky terrain and river terraces. _All the words were running through his head, slipping just out of reach as soon as he thought he might have caught something worthwhile.

"Max is cute. Max is really going places." Kate was mumbling to herself.

Then it hit Castle like a ton of miraculous bricks.

"Metropolitan Area Express!"

From the tone of his voice, Kate knew he had figured it out, but she was still leagues behind him. She clutched at his arm, anchoring herself to him physically in the unconscious hope that it would bring her closer mentally.

"What?"

"Metropolitan Area Express! MAX! It's not 'Max' a person. It's MAX the acronym. That's why it's capitalized. The MAX is the metro system in Portland. I've only done about a million book tour stops there. I've ridden that thing with Alexis a hundred times! The MAX 'goes places'! It's the MAX!"

"Portland! That's right on the—"

"—Willamette River! This has to be where she is. And the cherry trees are—"

"—all over Portland! So are the oaks. Come on let's go!"

She stood and ran inside and he followed close behind her. Her face was flushed as she threw belongings into her bag and he did the same. She scrambled to start gathering the papers that were still littering the room. Stuffing them into her bag she turned to him, car keys in hand and looking like she was about to sprint off without him. He zipped up his bag with a flourish and slung it over his shoulder.

"Let's go."

On the way out the door, Castle grabbed the basket of day old fruit from the floor. They were sure to get hungry and he didn't want to stop for food. Not now. Not when they felt so close. They ran to the parking lot but ended up standing next to two different cars. They stared at each other, both waiting for the other to come over to the right car.

"Shit," Beckett cursed when she realized they had two cars. Shaking her head at the ridiculous thing that had slowed them down she quickly spoke. "It doesn't matter. Let's just take yours."

His looked a hell of a lot faster than hers anyway.

With a distant thought the repercussions of leaving her rental behind, she pushed the thought away. Solving Alexis' kidnapping came first. Making a side note to be sure to fix the car situation eventually, she slid into the passenger seat and shut the door. The car was already pealing out of the lot before her buckle had even clicked into place.

* * *

><p><em>AN: So off to Portland it is. I realized too late that they had two cars, which worked out well, because they forgot too. I just did what they did and abandoned one of them. _

_**Important:**__ So. Apparently, this site has __**NOT**__ been sending out the story alerts in a timely fashion. I update pretty much every day and if you aren't getting the story alerts that is super sucky and I don't know how to fix it. You can follow me on Twitter or Tumblr (the link's are in my bio). I always post there when I've updated and include a link to the new chapter. _

_Sorry if it seems like I'm not updating very often. I am. You just aren't being alerted to it._


	17. Chapter 17

_Previously on Apples and Cherries…Castle and Beckett get closer and closer as they decide to head to Portland. Meanwhile..._

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><p><span>Chapter Seventeen:<span>

She smelled like vanilla. He let the smell careen over his senses as he buried his face in her neck. So soft. She was so soft. So soft. He bit her on the neck to test how the softness felt in his mouth, tasting the tang of blood as he bit in a little deeper. He liked necks. Her whimper of pain and fear made him swell in his jeans. Can't play too roughly, he told himself. Not yet. Not yet. Not yet. He never got the chance to play with his victims and he was going to draw this one out.

She was his toy, but he had to treat his toys nicely. NO! They were his! He didn't have to follow the rules. He could break a toy if he wanted to. Wrapping his hands around her neck, he squeezed, feeling her pulse beating erratically against his sweaty palms. He felt it slow and he loosened his grip. Don't kill. Not yet. Not yet. Not yet.

It was a thrill having her tied there by his ropes. She could fight a little against the binding, but only enough to draw blood, not enough to ever pull free. He liked to watch her try. She was so young and as the weeks went by, he felt the fight draining out of her. So young. So young. So young. Younger than anyone he'd killed before. It was thrilling. At first he had struggled. She wasn't quite right. She wasn't what he needed. She was too different. She smelled like apricots. He hated fruity smelling women. It had to be vanilla. Vanilla. Vanilla. He had made her more his…style.

"Please." She whispered in her sweet, soft voice. "Please, just let me go."

He laughed and walked around to face her. Her crystal clear blue eyes were surrounded by red. She looked broken. He reveled in the thought. He loved to break things. There was still a spark of defiance in her eyes and that excited him even more. She had spunk. He could not wait to kill her. To finally win. Win. Win.

"Not a chance, little Lex. I've got big plans for you."

She heaved a dry sob and met his brown eyes. "My dad will give you whatever you want." He had heard this particular plea before. She had so much confidence in Rick Castle. He could not wait to rob her of it. He could not wait to rob him of her.

"Oh, I'm counting on it, dear one. In a few days when your camp is over, he will realize that you are gone and he had absolutely no idea that anything was even wrong. He can't solve everything. HE CAN'T SOLVE EVERYTHING!" He shouted, inches from her face. Spittle flew onto her cheek and she flinched away. Reaching for her face to bring her closer again, he pressed his lips gently against hers. They were chapped and raw but warm. It made him crave the day when they would be cold. When she wouldn't fight back anymore. But not yet. Not yet. Not yet. He couldn't touch her yet. Suddenly he felt an incredible pain in his lip.

She was biting down hard. He screamed and yanked his head back, blood coursing down his chin. "You BITCH!" He reached out and slapped her as hard as he could. His own blood was dripping down the sides of her mouth and despite the slap, her eyes were victorious.

"Just for that, little Lex, you will be getting no supper. Now go to your room!" he laughed maniacally, the blood still flowing freely from his bottom lip that was hanging on by a few scraps of flesh. "Look how good I play the father. Maybe I won't kill you after all. Maybe I'll just make you my daughter. Wouldn't you like that, little Lex? A girl needs a strong father figure. And yours will be dead in a week or so." He laughed again, spitting out more of the blood that had stained his entire mouth a crimson red.

"Fuck you."

"Such language! I don't think I want a daughter like you. You'd look much better sleeping. A little bit of a blue tint around your lips."

She closed her eyes and he could almost picture it now. It was getting harder and harder not to kill her. He walked out of the cold room, pausing in the doorway so that his silhouette was illuminated from behind, casting a massive shadow all the way across the concrete floor.

"Until tomorrow, little Lex."

* * *

><p><em>AN: I struggled to be…creepy enough. So I hope my inner psychopath voice was at least somewhat believable. I had to get a teeny bit tipsy to write this chapter. And yeah. Alexis dropped an F-bomb. I think it was deserved. This was short, I know. There will be another one tomorrow so keep your panties on your heads._

_I can't wait to hear your reviews. You all probably hate me right now. Bring it on._


	18. Chapter 18

_Previously in Apples and Cherries…Alexis latest letter has led Caskett to believe she is being kept in Portland, Oregon. We saw Alexis' situation and it was NOT double rainbowy. And now…ROAD TRIP!_

* * *

><p><span>Chapter Eighteen:<span>

Portland was about three hours from Quinault for a normal drive, but Castle was gunning down the road at a speed that had Beckett clutching the sides of her seat. They'd probably make it in about five minutes flat. If they made it alive.

"Castle, slow down just a little." She flinched as he swerved around a pick up truck and almost ran straight into a little grey car. He just accelerated more, pushing 97…98…99. "Castle! Too fast!"

He flicked his eyes over to where she sat. "You drive fast and crazy all the time, Beckett."

"It's different!"

"How?"

"It's ME!" She pumped the invisible brake and grabbed at the dashboard as he nearly rear-ended a semi.

"Oops. Sorry." He wove around the truck and start speeding again.

"If you don't slow this car down, I will take my gun and shoot your right foot off."

"I hate to break it to you, Detective, but you are currently gun-less."

"Tell me about it." She dropped her head and closed her eyes. "If you get pulled over, all this speeding won't matter anyway. It's not worth it. And trust me, at this speed you _will_ get pulled over. You are a traffic cop's dream."

That seemed to work. He pulled his foot off the accelerator and slowed to a mere 75 mph. Slightly faster than the surrounding traffic, but not enough to grab too much attention.

"This better?"

She breathed a sigh of relief and relaxed her tense muscles. "Yes. Much."

They drove for a while in silence before Kate flicked on the radio. She hated being a passenger in a car. Not only did she get carsick if she wasn't driving, but it was just so boring. Scanning through the stations, she settled on some fairly raucous rock.

"Nitzer Ebb? Really?" Castle glanced at her skeptically.

"It matches your driving."

He laughed a little, but noticed she was mouthing the words to "Kiss Kiss Bang Bang" while staring out the window. He was about to taunt her for it, but she spoke first.

"I'm so hungry. I haven't eaten in days."

"There is some fruit in the basket in the back."

She turned in her seat and brought the basket to sit in her lap in the front. She selected a bright red apple and bit down into it.

"Mmm."

"Good?"

"Perfect."

Castle looked over and then smirked a bit. She knew that look. It was that cocky one he got right before he was about to tell a story or share some little known trivia.

"Some say Eve bit into the apple in search of enlightenment and truth. You're a lot like her, you know."

"Like Eve?" she said doubtfully, her eyebrows raised.

"Yeah. Always searching for the truth. Always digging a little deeper. Always tempting Adam with her womanly wiles. If she _was_ anything like you, I can hardly blame the guy for eating the apple with her. I would rather spend my life in a less than perfect world with you, than an eternity in Eden."

She hid her smile by looking out the window. _Focus on the view. Focus on the view._

"Although," he continued, "in Eden they didn't have to wear clothes…_that_ particular factor might weigh heavily in my decision."

Beckett looked over at Castle with her best I'm-not-finding-you-funny-but-who-are-we-kidding-yes-I-am face.

His behavior was confusing her. She was glad for the levity, but she didn't understand it's presence. _How was he able to push aside the situation like this? To just fall into flirtations and humor?_ When he turned toward her again, a roué smile on his face, she was able to see beneath the humor in his teasing eyes. She saw a darkness.

Then it hit her: he needed this. He needed the joking and the laughter or he wouldn't make it. She was determined to give it to him.

As she finished the apple off, she leaned over and offered him one.

"So what do you say, Adam. Join me in some original sin?"

He smiled at her playfulness. "Nah. I need my hands for this kind of driving."

She grabbed a cherry from the pile and handed him one. "You don't need hands for these. And you need to eat too."

He popped the cherry in his mouth and spit the seed out the window. "More please." She handed him another and he did the same. Twenty cherries later and he finally turned the little fruit down. "I'm good. Thanks."

"You sure? I'm sure the state of Washington would love to thank you for supporting their entire cherry industry single-handedly."

He laughed. "Hey. I like cherries."

"So I gathered."

"You don't?"

"No, I like cherries. A normal amount."

"I would have thought you liked them a little extra, because, you know…" His voice trailed off and he wafted his hand through the air leadingly, but she had no idea where he was going with the statement.

"Because of…"

"You smell like cherries." He said it a little embarrassedly, but then he turned his head towards her and winked. "I like it."

"Stop sniffing me, Castle. It's creepy."

"Why do you wear cherry perfume if you don't want people to smell it?"

"It's not perfume."

"Really?"

"Yes, really. And can you please focus more on the driving and less on what I smell like?"

"I'll do my best, Beckett. I can't make promises."

His silence almost lasted an entire minute.

"When you came out of the shower, you distinctly smelled like cherries. Is it your soap?"

"Castle!"

"Sorry. That memory is just…fresh on my mind." He gave her a dangerous little smile.

"Well, stop it."

"I can't help it. It's not everyday I get to catch a cop with her guard down. Naked."

"I was not naked. I was holding a towel."

"—Strategically."

She smiled at his reference but then quickly wiped it away before he could see.

"You should talk, Mr. Can't Keep His Shirt On For Five Minutes."

"You liked it. Admit it."

She scoffed. "Ha! Contrary to popular male belief, not all women are panting for a man to walk around shirtless in everyday situations."

"Really? But Matty swears by it." He baited her with a confused face.

She bit. "Matty?"

"You know, Matthew McConaughey."

She laughed outright this time, joy touching her features. Her smile was so bright and free that Castle could not look away. She had brought her hand up to partially cover it, but it only endeared her to him more. Suddenly, the smile was swept away and replaced with wide eyes.

"Castle!" she yelled, panicked.

He looked back at the road where her eyes were locked and slammed on the brakes missing the car in front of them by inches.

"That was close." He breathed, gripping the wheel with both hands and thinking to himself that maybe it wasn't the best idea for him to drive. Kate Beckett was more of a distraction than texting on the road could ever be. He looked over at her and she gave him a sort of half smile.

"Sorry."

"It's okay."

The road ahead of them was swamped with cars. The highway leading into Portland was a parking lot and all they could see for miles were brake lights.

"Get comfy, Beckett. This is gonna take a while."

An hour later and they were marginally closer to the city than before. It seemed to Kate that other cities should not have traffic. Her mind had always thought of New York as being the traffic capital of the world and that no other city could hold a candle to it. Portland was making a strong effort.

The cars were starting to move faster and Beckett took her feet off the dashboard.

"Finally," she groaned. Her knees ached from their previous bent position and her lower back was protesting the road trip painfully.

Castle surprised her by taking an exit.

"Do we actually know where we are going?"

"I do."

"Care to clue me in?"

"My loft."

She should have been surprised, but she wasn't. Of course he had a loft here. He probably had a swanky loft in every major city.

"Of course."

He smiled. "Don't worry, you'll like it."

"If it's free, I'm not complaining."

"Well I don't usually let the ladies stay there without some kind of payment." He waggled his eyebrows scandalously at her.

She rolled her eyes. "How about I don't kill you in your sleep and we call it even."

"Done."

* * *

><p><em>AN: This chapter was way lighter in both plot and angstyness. I think I've kept them in character, but maybe not in character for the fact that Alexis is still missing. I figure that they were tired of the heavy emotions (just like us) and decided to just push them away for one car ride. Using humor and their usual formula of interaction to cope._

_Also: This is rated T and so dark things occasionally happen. I WILL clarify for you guys that the kidnapper is not harming her sexually in any way and WON'T. The kiss was as far as he's ever gone and something tells me he won't be trying that again since Alexis bit his lip off._

_Review. I'm lacking inspiration lately._


	19. Chapter 19

_Previously in Apples and Cherries...Rick and Kate took a road trip to Portland and will be staying at Castle's loft. They ate apples and cherries and tried to fall back on humor to find normalcy._

* * *

><p><span>Chapter Nineteen:<span>

Kate sat on the leather couch in Castle's loft. The place was decorated in the same fashion as his New York property and it left Kate wondering, yet again, exactly how much money Richard Castle was worth. This apartment was much smaller, but it probably still cost a fortune. He was making some coffee and she was watching him walk around the kitchen grabbing mugs down from a cabinet.

Pouring the piping hot coffee into the mugs he walked over to where she sat and handed her the drink.

"We'll have to take it black. No milk in the place."

"No problem. Thank you, it smells great." She let the mug warm her palms as the coffee steamed into the air. Castle had already taken a large gulp and was wincing in pain.

"Hot!"

She shook her head and rolled her eyes. "What is this, your first time drinking coffee?"

He gave her a pouty look. "I just didn't wanna wait for it. I can't always be patient. It smelled so good!"

She took a cautious sip of her own. Deciding she could handle its heat, she took a longer draw. Standing up from the couch, she walked to the sliding glass door that led to the balcony and let herself out. Leaning against the rail, she took another swallow and looked out at the river that snaked out before her, winding through the city like a vein of silver.

She hadn't heard Castle approaching, but she should have expected it. He stood directly behind her and when he spoke, his voice was soft and almost carried away by the chilled wind.

"What now?" He asked.

"I don't know." She could feel the heat of his body against her back. Not touching her, but so very close. He always did this. She wondered if it was on purpose, or if he just liked to stand closer to people than normal.

…

Castle stood as close as he could to Beckett, attempting to draw comfort from her presence. She seemed lost in thought as she looked out over the Portland skyline from his balcony. He knew what she was thinking. He was thinking the same thing.

"She's out there somewhere," he said softly.

"We're so close." She took a deep breath, deep enough that her back momentarily brushed up against his chest. "I just don't know where to look next. We need a miracle."

"I'm afraid I used mine already when you showed up."

She ducked her head and continued on, like he hadn't said anything. Slightly stepping forward into the railing more, she created a small distance between their bodies. He could be so incredibly sweet and she knew he wasn't even trying at the moment. The heat from his chest and the warmth from his words were too much for right now. Too much for Portland.

"We should read over the letters again. See if there are anymore clues."

Castle took his cue and stepped away from her, allowing her to return inside. He followed behind her but left the door open to air out the slightly musty loft. Even a space as open and airy as this tended to get a bit stuffy when no one had set foot in it for four years. He had been debating just selling it. The property taxes in Oregon were horrendous, and he just didn't need it anymore. He liked the area, but there were better things he cold do with his money. Like give it all to Alexis. He didn't really want it and he knew she would find a good use for it. Except for the occasional splurge on a Vespa or Taylor Swift tickets, he doubted Alexis would ever go as crazy with money as he had in his youth.

He had been flooded with thoughts of Alexis the moment he had stepped foot in the Portland loft. The last time he was here, she had been about to start high school and was on a book tour with him over her summer break. She was so sweet and innocent back then. Not that she wasn't now, but she had been so_ little_ four years ago. He could remember her skinny little arms. How she had refused to go anywhere without a baseball cap for months because her favorite book character always wore one. Her voice had been higher pitched and he could still hear it in his ears like it was yesterday.

He wanted nothing more than to pull her into a giant bear hug and never let her go again. Protect her from the world for the rest of her life and make sure nothing like this would ever happen again. She was his sunshine. She was his everything. And somebody had snatched her away from him. His mind immediately transitioned from his memories of Alexis in the past to his hopes for her future.

There were so many things she hadn't done yet. She hadn't seen the last Harry Potter movie. She hadn't gone to college. She hadn't stayed up all night under the Eiffel Tower with somebody she loved. She hadn't gotten married. She hadn't made love. She hadn't had kids. There were _so_ many things.

He wiped furiously at his eyes as the tears started to fall. He wanted her back. He wanted her little red head to pop out from behind the couch and tell him she had just been joking and wasn't it funny? He wouldn't even be mad.

The tears wouldn't stop and he turned to the window again in an attempt to get himself under control before Beckett saw him. But every time he tried to calm himself down, he would remember what Alexis' head felt like when it laid on his shoulder. Or what she looked like on her fifth Halloween, dressed as Darth Vader.

A dry sob wracked his body and he just couldn't contain it anymore. Before he could even contemplate leaving the room for the bathroom he felt Kate's hand on his shoulder, pulling firmly to turn him around.

She saw his expression and did not hesitate before pulling him into a hug. They didn't hug often. In fact, he couldn't even remember if they ever had. She fit in his arms perfectly. Like every curve on her body had a corresponding place on his. Puzzle pieces. He buried his head into her neck and let go of some of the emotions he had been pushing behind the dam. A cloud of bronzed hair and the soft, warm smell of her skin surrounded him.

He wasn't worried she would judge him or be disgusted. He knew her. He knew her and she knew him and there really wasn't any more to it. His body shook as he silently cried for a few minutes. She just stood there and held him, her hand running calmingly up and down his back.

He pulled himself under control and he whispered into her neck, "I just want her back."

She didn't say anything at first, but he felt her lips press against his hair. Not in a kiss. More just to rest there, close to his ear.

"I promise I'll find her, Rick. I promise."

He pulled away swiping at his eyes with his palms and letting out an embarrassed little laugh, thumbing at a shiny spot on her skin.

"Sorry about the wet stain."

She smiled at his attempt to diffuse the situation, but put her hand on his forearm and slid her way to his fingers, drawing his hand away from her neck and holding it between them. She ignored the wet stain and reiterated what she knew they both needed.

"I promise."

* * *

><p><em>AN: In answer to many of your questions, I don't live in Portland or the Pacific Northwest, but I go there at least once a year._

_I know we didn't progress much in the plot with this chapter, but I think it was a bit of character development/exposure that was necessary._

_By the way. I love you guys. You've provided me with a wonderful little escape from reality and I know I wouldn't be enjoying this even half as much without you. Isn't it awesome that the world has created little corners for people like us to gather and share and form unlikely friendships? I think it is. _


	20. Chapter 20

_Previously on Apples and Cherries...They arrived at the Portland loft in search of Alexis. Castle finally had a bit of an emotional breakdown and Kate was there to comfort him. And now for the next chapter..._

* * *

><p><span>Chapter Twenty:<span>

Castle's Portland loft looked like the home of a madman. There were papers covering literally every surface of the living room. Beckett had pinned up copies of the letters on the wall next to pictures of Alexis and the brief description they had managed to get of the kidnapper. Below this was a timeline that Castle had colored directly onto the wall with markers. Strings and pins attached the letters to their corresponding place on the timeline.

Beckett was standing in front of this display, hand touching her mouth with her thumb running gently over her lip. She was used to staring at the murder board in the precinct, waiting for something to pop out at her, but this felt totally different. Usually her subjects were already dead and while she always felt a pressure to solve things quickly, this was an entirely different matter. Alexis was still alive for now, but they were racing a very unforgiving clock.

She had promised Castle that she would find Alexis for him and she had no intentions of going back on her word. But for the life of her, she had no idea where to start. Castle kept looking at her with those eyes, so full of trust and hope and confidence. She had no idea what she was doing or even where to start and every time he looked at her like that she felt like she was failing him. He needed her to be the one with answers. The one with a plan. The one with a gun.

He was sitting on the couch rereading the original copies of the letters. Occasionally he would make a noise of frustration and shuffle the papers with unnecessary vigor and Kate knew exactly how he felt. It was approaching three in the morning and they still had nothing. The pizza they had ordered hours ago sat cold and untouched on the coffee table, the cheese congealed into a pearly white layer of solid grease. She and Castle were running solely on coffee and stubbornness.

She looked over at the man on the couch and saw that his eyes were slowly drooping. He was losing the war against consciousness and while he was steadfastly refusing to allow them to close completely, Kate knew it was only a matter of time before his body crashed out of necessity.

"Come on, Castle. Let's go to bed. We're getting nowhere tonight."

He didn't look up from the letter in his hands. "You go ahead, Beckett. I'm just gonna read a few more."

Their role reversal did not escape her. Usually he was the one who pried her from her desk and forced her to sleep during a case. As she looked into his haggard face and unblinking, red eyes she thought she might understand a little better why he was always so intent on getting her to sleep.

She walked over to where he sat and slowly drew the letter from his hands.

"Not tonight. You need to sleep a few hours if we are going to be fully functioning tomorrow."

"Yeah, but we didn't get any further. We haven't found any new leads. This isn't how it's supposed to go."

"It's not a book, Castle. Sometimes the leads take time to show themselves. Sometimes the leads can only be seen by well-rested eyes."

The look on his face was half aggravation and half resignation. "Fine. But I'm setting my alarm for dawn."

"Fine by me."

They got ready for bed together in silence. She passed him her toothpaste. He passed her a glass of water. She gave him the floss. He handed her a towel. It didn't surprise either of them that they were so in sync in the bathroom and both were too tired to question it anyway. They stared at each other in the lull that followed the flurry of movement as they both brushed their teeth.

Castle was developing a small foam of toothpaste in the corner of his mouth because he had loaded his brush up with a fat, long blob of the stuff. Kate tossed the towel at him and he dabbed at the drip with mock delicacy while rolling his eyes. She spat and rinsed and then grabbed the towel off his shoulder with a flick to pat down her lips. Folding it in thirds and then setting it on the counter, she narrowed her eyes at him as he still continued to brush.

Choosing to leave the bathroom instead of watch the inevitable explosion of foamy toothpaste from his mouth, she left to go clear the couch of its mountain range of papers. There was no way she would sleep in Alexis' bed while the girl was kidnapped somewhere. It just felt…wrong. Fluffing a throw pillow she laid down and closed her eyes to the light, feeling herself seconds away from sleep. That lasted all of a minute before a dark shadow crossed over her, blocking the light that shone from the ceiling.

"What do you think you are doing?" his voice asked from above her.

"I would say 'sleeping', but right now it feels more like 'trying not to murder the man interrupting my sleep'."

He ignored her pass at humor and continued on. "I mean, what are you doing on the couch? Get into the bed."

She opened her eyes at this and gave him a sarcastic glare. "I think I'll pass. But thanks for the offer, Casanova. Now I know how you get all the ladies swooning into your sheets. Pure charm."

He barked a single laugh. "_You_ sleep in the bed. _I'll_ sleep on the couch. I wouldn't want to lose my Gentleman's Card over this. The club would never forgive me and renewing your membership after such a disgrace is just such a pain and full of all kinds of blood-drinking, dress-wearing rituals."

She stared at him blankly. "Just go sleep in the bed. I'm already here and comfy."

"I warn you, I will pick you up and carry you there against your will, Detective."

"You do realize if you tried that I'd drop you on your ass faster than you could say bottlenose dolphin."

"Bottlenose dolphin?"

"Yes. Just like that."

He simply rolled his eyes and continued to stand over her. Staring.

She stared back, but stubbornness lost out to her desire to just go to sleep, so with a groan she stood up and walked over to the bed. "I'm taking the couch tomorrow. No arguments."

…

Castle could hear her crawl beneath the sheets across the open loft. The bed springs made tiny noises as she adjusted herself for a while and then everything was silent. She would be asleep in minutes and he wondered how long it would be until he followed her. He was tired, he wouldn't deny it, but he was restless at the same time. Sleep felt like a useless pursuit when Alexis was missing. Surely, there were better and more productive things for him to be doing. Deep inside, he knew that Beckett was right. He would be absolutely useless to Alexis if he spent any more nights with less than adequate sleep.

Flicking off the lights in the apartment, he laid back into the cushions of the couch with his arm bent back behind his head. The huge windows that took up an entire wall in the loft were allowing the lights of the city to throw a low glow through the apartment, casting everything into shadows. It reminded him of the night Beckett had fallen asleep in his arms with the TV tinting everything a shade of blue. Before any of this had shaken his life, while he was still blissful in his ignorance.

He would have done anything to just go back to that night when he had all the time in the world. If he could keep any moment of her, it would be that: watching her and holding his breath with the wonder of it all. In the quiet apartment with her a few feet away, Castle felt an immense loneliness creep into his heart. He wished he were in that bed with her so he could wrap his arms around her warm body and draw comfort until he finally fell asleep.

Sitting up again, he rubbed his hands over his face and slowly pushed himself up. Walking to the kitchen, he opened the highest cabinet above the stove and drew out a decanter. Grabbing a glass and filling it with ice, he added a finger of the scotch and walked back to the couch. Looking out at the city through the window, he took a slow sip and let the scotch run smooth down his throat until it burned in his belly. He wasn't trying to get drunk or even forget the horrible situation he was in. Scotch tended to calm him down and usually made him sleepy.

He swirled the ice and liquor in the glass and continued to scan his eyes over the twinkling lights of Portland. She could be anywhere out there. One of those twinkling lights could be the room where she was being kept. It wasn't a horrible thought, although it did put into perspective exactly how many places she could possibly be. At least they had narrowed it down to a city.

Deep in thought, he hadn't heard Beckett stir and he only realized her presence when she sat down next to him on the couch. She didn't say anything at first. Her eyes were focused on the same skyline as his.

"I thought you were asleep." He said quietly.

"It was easier being tired than it was sleeping."

He knew exactly what she meant. He was tired too, but sleep just felt out of the question. He turned to her and watched how the city lights reflected in her big eyes making them sparkle. He released a breath he didn't know he had been holding and passed her his glass. She took it without a word and took a long swallow, passing it back when she was done. He finished off the last bit and then set the glass on top of the pizza box, the ice cubes clinking with the movement.

They sat next to each other looking out the window and even without conversation, Castle had never felt such companionship. Their upper arms brushed against each other and they were both still in full clothing from the day. He let his pinky rub lightly and mindlessly along a short track of the seam of her jeans and minutes later she rested her head on his shoulder. It was exactly how they had slept last night, only this time their position was intentional. He rested his head tentatively atop hers and felt his mind clear of all thoughts. Their eyes finally closed, the closeness of the other lulling them to sleep as the lights from the city continued to illuminate the night.

* * *

><p><em>AN: Awwwww! They have to be next to each other to sleep now. Isn't that cute, guys? Isn't it? On another note, my mind is pinging around in a thousand different directions for how I want this next part to pan out. I have a final destination in mind, but I have no idea how I am going to get them there without some serious dues ex machina. _

_Also: There is a bit of tweaked Brian Andreas from Story People in here. I like to throw his quotes into my stories._


	21. Chapter 21

_Previously in Apples and Cherries...Castle had a breakdown and Beckett was there for him. They continued to search through clues of what could have happened to Alexis. They were in sync in the bathroom. Fell asleep together on the couch._

* * *

><p><span>Chapter Twenty-One:<span>

This time when the sun rose with a gentle light, it woke the two sleepers on the couch at almost the same time. Kate stirred first, lifting her head and feeling the weight of Castle's own opposing the motion. She heard him wet his dry lips and then sigh the sigh of a man waking from a wonderful dream and into a reality that was never supposed to be.

"Morning," she rasped through a voice that clearly was not ready for use yet.

"Morning," he replied.

"Did you sleep okay?"

He let his head fall back to the couch again and closed his eyes.

"Better than I have in weeks. I wish I never had to wake up."

_Well that was heartbreakingly good news_. His words left her feeling neither like a failure, nor reassured.

"Good dream?"

"Yeah. I was drowning in the Baltic sea, painfully freezing to death. And this had never happened. It was wonderful."

"I'm sorry." She really didn't know what to say. Her sleep had been full of visions of Castle shooting Dennis Kack in the head over and over again for stealing Alexis. It had been cathartic and troubling all at once. It seemed the day was insistent on throwing nonmictic emotions on her.

"It's okay." He squeezed her pinky and it was then that she realized that somehow in the night, their pinkies had linked together in a physical display of solidarity. She squeezed back and then withdrew her finger from him patting his knee and moving to stand. His hand found her own knee and made a move to keep her seated.

"When Alexis was seven, I took her with me here. To Portland. She loved it."

Kate waited for him to continue, already mesmerized by his storyteller's voice.

"She was a city girl and no matter how many times we traveled the east coast, I had never seen her so excited than when I took her here. I think it was the trees. We went hiking and she insisted—absolutely _insisted_—that we climb this massive tree off the path. And because I love her and I can't say no to her and it seemed like fun anyway, I let her do it.

"She was so little. Her arms, Kate. You should have seen them. They were these little freckled sticks. And her legs were skinny too and always covered in scrapes and band-aids."

Kate watched his face relax as if someone had injected morphine into his system. He looked peaceful in his reminiscence.

"She must have gotten about fifty feet up the tree. I'm not even exaggerating. She was so high. I could have stopped her, but I guess I just wanted to see how far she'd go. How far she'd push herself. After a while, I realized she wasn't climbing back down and it dawned on me that maybe she was stuck or afraid.

"She called down to me in the voice she uses when she's trying to be brave and I just knew that she needed help down. So I climbed all the way up to her. We sat there together for a while, looking out over everything and talking about how different it was from our world, New York.

"Eventually, I just let her wrap her legs around my middle and I carried her down like a Koala. Have you ever heard a Koala? They don't' sound like you think they'd sound. So I made funny Koala noises for her until we were back on the ground and she wasn't afraid anymore."

The story was over and Beckett was at a loss for words yet again.

"You're a good dad, Castle. The best."

He shook his head against the back of the couch, eyes still closed.

"Not the best. She needs me to come save her and I can't do it. I'm failing her"

Kate stood up, grabbed a pile of papers and laid them on Castle's lap.

"You're not failing her unless you quit trying. She'll be okay. We'll get her, Castle. Now read through those again while I start on these."

…

The rest of the morning and afternoon had been spent exactly as the last night had ended. Beckett and Castle were rereading every bit of information that they had, trying to come at it from fresh angles. Castle had begun to apply several different code breaking methods on her letters on the tiny hope that she had somehow managed to think of and incorporate an intricate cipher into her words. He knew the chances of Alexis being able to do this while her kidnapper read over her shoulder were slim to none, but he had no other ideas.

Beckett was staring at the wall much like she had been last night. For the past thirty minutes she had been toying with the idea that Alexis knew the kidnapper somehow. It just didn't make sense that she wouldn't have raised the alarm if he had tried to take her. Was he maybe a lover of Alexis' that had duped her into leaving with him and then taking her captive? That was unlikely. Alexis was 17 and no matter how much 17 year-olds hide from their fathers, Alexis wouldn't be able to hide something like a "lover" who was old enough to pretend to be her father.

Perhaps he was a relative of some kind and Alexis had actually believed that her grandmother had died? But why would she tell the councilors he was her father? None of it made sense.

"Why did she go along with it!" She finally vocalized her frustration.

Castle looked up from his papers. "I don't know. I can't think of any reason she wouldn't have at least tried to sound the alarm. She's not stupid."

"You're sure no one at the camp thought anything suspicious was happening. She didn't say anything out of the ordinary? Leave anything behind?"

"No. They all say she barely said anything except that her grandmother had died. She left behind some clothes and a few letters from me, but I couldn't get my hands on them."

"Do you think she may have tried something with those?"

"Maybe. I asked Mia too look through them and she hasn't called me with any information."

"Maybe we should call her."

There was silence as neither of them went to grab their phones. The letters were proving to be a dead end, but they really had nothing else.

Beckett tried to move past the theory that Alexis knew her abductor. In her experience there were only two ways to get people to do what you want. Trust or fear. If Alexis didn't know or trust her captor, then maybe he had used fear to get her to comply.

"Hey, Castle? What is Alexis most afraid of?"

He was silent and let his hand full of papers rest on his knee. His eyes were distant as he tried to recall what Alexis' biggest fears were.

"Spiders? Getting B's? The girl's rugby team?" He paused, and then shook his head. "I don't know. She's been pretty sheltered her whole life and so nothing scary has ever really happened to her."

Beckett nodded absently. She knew the feeling. Her past was full of similar fears. There was nothing really that scary growing up with rich parents who loved you. There was nothing to fear when your mom and dad could always be there for you in case something happened. It wasn't until her mother had been ripped away from her that Kate had started to understand fear. Real fear, not the kind you felt for clowns with big pockets and bumps in the night. The kind of fear that would change your life. Dictate your decisions. Make you leave a camp with a stranger to prevent from happening.

That's when it clicked for her. "You. It's you."

"What?" Castle asked his brow furrowed.

"She afraid of losing you." Beckett spoke quickly now, almost sure of her answer. "That's the only way someone could have gotten her to leave the camp. To do whatever they wanted. To not raise the alarm. They threatened YOU. You're all she has. She would have done anything for you."

Castle's face paled as he realized the truth in her words. The only times he had ever seen Alexis truly panicked or scared was after the few occasions his life had been on the line with Beckett. She was afraid of losing him. She would have done anything for her kidnapper.

"But that means…That means the kidnapper knew who I was. I've been thinking it was random because I hadn't received any contact at all. But if he knew to threaten her with me, then he knows enough about us to know who I am. What I'm worth. What does he WANT from me? Why doesn't he just ASK? I'd give him anything."

"Maybe…bear with me here…Maybe _this_ is what he wants from you? To make you suffer by taking away the one thing you love."

"Yeah, but for all he knows, I don't even _know_ she's gone. I'm not suffering."

"But remember how awful you felt when you realized it had taken you two weeks to even notice she was gone?" Castle flinched visibly and looked down ashamed. "Perhaps that's the sting this guy is looking for. To hurt you in the worst way possible, he is not only taking away your daughter, but trying to make you feel like you didn't deserve her in the first place."

The words hung in the air as Castle continued to look down. His face was pale and covered in guilt. Beckett quickly walked over to him.

"It's not true, you know. You are a wonderful father. Alexis is lucky to have you. You're giving him exactly what he wants if you believe him."

Castle dully nodded his head, but didn't look all that much comforted. Beckett seemed to know that nothing was going to comfort him other than a strong lead on this bastard.

"So who do you know that wants to hurt you that badly?"

"Nobody."

"Really? Not a soul on this planet thinks you're even the tiniest bit evil? I can think of at least thirty who want me dead. There's got to be at least one for you."

"I highly doubt thirty people want to kill you." Beckett raised her eyebrows, giving him a look. He reconsidered. "I take it back. If I was on your bad side…" He shuddered comically. "I might have to take revenge on you for the certain pain you would have inflicted."

"Exactly. Now come on. Think. Who hates you?"

Castle thought for a long time, but couldn't really come up with any plausible names. Beckett let it go for now, but was certain that the man they were looking for would belong on that list. The sun was starting to set again and it was making the room warm with both color and heat. The pinks and oranges that adorned the sky were a very beautiful reminder of the horrible fact that another day had come and gone and they weren't really any closer than they had been yesterday.

….

Darkness had settled in over the city and Beckett had moved to sit on the floor with her back against the couch. Castle hadn't moved from his spot and was currently forcing himself to stomach a slice of room temperature, day-old pizza.

Kate's mind had long ago stopped fully functioning. She was shuffling through the papers in a weak bid to get something to jump out at her. Castle made a pensive noise from the couch above her.

"Hmm."

"Whatcha thinking?"

"It just…I get that she signed her name Lex to grab my attention, but…I don't know."

"Why the 'XXX'?"

"Yes!"

"I thought about that too, but I couldn't come up with anything. It's a bit…odd, though. XXX is something you say to your lover. Not your father."

Castle nodded, his chin in his hand. "In the letters prior to her kidnapping, she signs it 'Love, Alexis', or 'Love, Your Baby Bird', or 'Love, Pumpkinhead'. But she doesn't start signing it 'XXX' until about a week into the kidnapping…"

"Could be a coincidence."

"Could be. Or…"

"Or maybe it's the key."

Beckett had moved form the floor to kneel on the couch next to Castle. Excitement shone in her eyes in exactly the same way it did when they hit the key point for any other case. The familiarity escalated his confidence and he leaned in towards her. "Why would she start signing it 'XXX'?

"Maybe she figured out where she was being kept or who was keeping her? She didn't know in the beginning, but a week in, something must have happened to tip her off."

"Yes. Yes, that's gotta be it. But what does it mean. Roman numeral for 30?" Castle spun.

Beckett shot out the first idea that 'XXX' brought to her mind. "Inside an adult toy store?"

Castle made a face at her speculation and followed it with one of his own. "Kiss Kiss Kiss?"

"I thought the X's were hugs?"

Castle looked at her like she was crazy. "No. The X is the kiss. O's are the hugs." She gave him a look of doubt. "The O is big and round and open like arms in a hug." Castle held his arms in front of him in a circle as a display.

"Or like a mouth in a kiss…"

Castle had no riposte for this. "This is all beside the point. Does 'Kiss Kiss Kiss' or 'Hug Hug Hug' mean anything to you?"

"No." Beckett shook her head. "But what else could three X's mean?"

Castle shook his head, the answer evading him. "I don't know. I don't…" His voice trailed off, his eyes becoming distant and almost fearful.

"Castle! Castle what is it?" Beckett's hand was on the crook of his elbow, gripping him securely.

"Three X's. It's him. It's him." His eyes were still clouded over, all the excitement from the previous moment completely drained out.

"Who? Who, Castle!" She shook his arm a little until he turned to her, the gravity of what he was going to say clearly exhibited in his eyes.

"The triple killer. 3XK. Jerry Tyson. It's him. He has her."

* * *

><p><em>AN: Alright. Who saw it coming? Anyone guess it right? __**By the way**__, I wrote this all before I even read any Castle fanfiction, so I had no idea how popular 3xk fics were. Is it disappointing? I'm sorry if it is. I promise the plot stays original and unique. _

_Click review. This is a pivotal chapter and I want to hear your thoughts._

_I added the wake up scene about 10 minutes before I posted. In honor of Father's day. The tree climbing is an entirely true story about my dad and I. _


	22. Chapter 22

**WARNING: This story is rated T and T-rated things occasionally happen in it. This chapter is going to show Alexis again. For those of you with issues, skip it and ask me to fill you in later. **

_Previously in Apples and Cherries: Castle talked about climbing trees. Beckett thinks X's are hugs. Giant moths killed him and then ate his clothes. They figured out it was Jerry Tyson who took Alexis._

* * *

><p><span>Chapter Twenty-Two:<span>

She could still smell the peroxide in her hair weeks after he had dyed it. The caustic scent stung her nose and made it want to bleed. It had been almost three weeks now that she had sat in a chair on the cold cement floor of the warehouse room she was in. It was strange to be in the center of such a large space.

Tied to a bolted down chair with harsh yellow rope, she had long since given up wiggling free. Her wrists had bled steadily for the first two weeks and after finally realizing she could never pull free, she had quit trying. Once a day when she woke up, she would wiggle her wrists and ankles just a little to keep her skin from healing into the rope. It was painful to reopen the wounds every day, but Alexis couldn't think of another way.

She was no longer afraid that every time Jerry Tyson entered a room, he would kill her. She had long ago realized that he wouldn't. Aside from his promises, she knew he only strangled his victims with a specific rope, so until he walked into that room with a green and white 3-strand twisted quarter inch nylon rope, Alexis knew her time had not come yet. She still could not suppress the rush of fear every time he walked into the room though. His soulless brown eyes were dead inside and she felt like every time he looked at her, he saw somebody else. Somebody he wanted dead.

Every morning, he would walk into the warehouse and talk to her in an almost gentle voice, calling her 'Little Lex' and petting her arms and face. Every morning he would brush the tangles out of her now blonde hair and then spray something vanilla scented on her until she smelled like a cupcake factory. Every morning she would close her eyes and try to forget that his nose was buried in her neck and his hands were running through her hair. He had never gone beyond this with her. Never raped her or violated her in any other way. She had nearly bitten off his lip when he had kissed her and that was as far as he had ever gone. She knew he would kill her eventually, but every day that he walked in without the green and white rope, she knew that there was still time.

He'd bring her food once a day and occasionally he'd untie her and let her work her muscles and run around the warehouse. The days he let her stretch and move around were the days he let her write home to her father, pretending she was still at camp. He always read over them carefully, and threw away anything he didn't think was completely empty of clues. He crumpled anything mentioning a non-existent pet or family member. He'd trashed the letter that she'd tried to change the names of her bunkmates in. He was quick and he knew a lot about her family and friends. It was hard to sneak anything by him, but he wanted her to write the letters and she found subtler ways to try and clue her father in.

She'd tried to fight him the first few times he allowed her to work her muscles and be free of the chair, but he was far too strong and knew all the deflections to the sparse self defense moves she had picked up from _Miss Congeniality_. If she made a break for an escape he'd just tie her back down and she'd lose her exercise privileges. It was important to keep her muscles from atrophying or cramping worse than they already were, so she quickly learned to make use of the time he gave her to be free and yielded the fight like he'd known she would.

She hadn't put it together at first, who he was. He didn't speak much for the first couple days and when he did, it was usually while he was brushing her hair saying "Not yet, not yet, not yet". Day by day, more clues to his identity had fallen subtly into place, until one day he had simply smashed away any ambiguity.

.

_The door to the warehouse slammed open and the sound echoed across the room. Alexis' head snapped up as she waited for the soft and slow footsteps of her captor. But this time it sounded different. Squinting at the silhouette that entered, she could clearly distinguish two distinct bodies and hear the single clack of a woman's high heel. As the two approached, Alexis saw the clearly drugged face of a blonde woman in her late twenties. The man dropped her carelessly on the floor and then left the room only to return moments later with a chair. Propping the woman up in the chair, he turned to Alexis and spoke to her calmly._

"_I'm doing this for you." His breath smelled like Doritos and it made Alexis' stomach churn. "Well, that's not strictly true. I'm doing this for me. But I'm doing it so I don't kill you. You are very tempting to kill, Alexis Castle. But you are too important to waste on an impulse."_

_Alexis looked down into his hands finally and saw that he was carrying a green and white rope with him. Her eyes grew wide and fearful as she put together what he was about to do. Stepping back from Alexis' chair he dropped the rope on the floor and instead pulled some cheap yellow rope out of his pocket and began to tie the blonde up._

"_There's no need for me to completely forgo my fun. I'll wait for her to shake off the drugs and then I'll be back. You'll thank me later, Little Lex."_

_Without another word, he left Alexis alone in the room with the woman. _

"_Hey! Hey, wake up!" Alexis struggled against her bonds and winced at the stinging pain it sent through her wrists and ankles. The woman's head lolled from one side to the other but there was no other reaction to Alexis' efforts. She continued to talk to the woman for an hour, trying to snap her out of the stupor. Eventually the woman was able to hold her head up and focus her eyes on Alexis. They were a pretty brown color._

"_Where am I?"_

"_I don't know."_

"_Who are you?"_

"_My name is Alexis. We've been kidnapped. Do you have any idea where we are?"_

"_I have no idea. The last thing I remember is driving to Canrnaths Bar to meet my friend."_

"_What's your name?"_

"_Julie. Julie Lindblow"_

"_We need to find a way out of here Julie, before he comes back. Can you move your hands at all? Work at the ropes?"_

_Julie struggled against her bindings but they seemed to be just as secure as the ones around Alexis. The disappointment that filled Alexis was crushing. _

"_Do you still have your phone on you? Can you think of anything that might get us out of here?"_

"_No. My phone was in my purse and it's not here."_

_Alexis groaned._

"_Don't worry. We will get out. We just need to think. How old are you?" Alexis answered her and the woman's eyes filled with pity. "How long have you been here?"_

"_A week." Julie looked hopeful at that._

"_That's good. He doesn't plan to kill us immediately."_

_Alexis looked down to hide her expressive eyes. She was pretty sure that the man had a different plan for Julie. Her head jerked back up at the sound of the warehouse door slamming open and panic filled her as the brown-eyed man walked in again. Everything seemed to be moving too fast as he picked up the rope at her feet, threading it between his fingers before he wrapped it around each of his knuckles. Alexis struggled hard against her ropes, unaware of the fresh blood that now dripped down her wrists. _

"_Stop fighting it, Little Lex. I'm not gonna make you watch. I just wanted you to meet her so you would appreciate that you get to live."_

_Alexis's throat burned with the fiery promise of angry tears._

"_Please don't. Please just let her go."_

_He smiled and shook his head. "I can't do that. It's you or her and my plans for you are far too grand. Far, far too grand."_

_He fiddled with the rope in his hands unwrapping and rewrapping it about his knuckles. _

"_Although maybe…How much like your father are you? Are you drawn to death as well? Maybe I should let you get a taste. Get a little closer. See what you've always wondered about."_

_He was walking behind Julie now and Alexis knew she had to pull free of her restraints now or it would be too late. She pulled and pulled but nothing would move. A little scream bubbled up in her throat as the man slowly lowered the rope around Julie's neck who had begun to scream as well. Her dark eyes locked onto Alexis' as the rope gently pushed against her throat. _

_He smiled. It was dark and menacing like a skeleton at Halloween, his lip splitting at the seam where it had begun to heal from her bite. A thin line of blood fell from his chin to Julie's shoulder._

"_No, no, no. I can't do that to you. Not yet, not yet, not yet. I can't break you yet, Little Lex." _

_He grabbed the back of Julie's chair and dragged it on two legs behind him and out the door._

_Alexis had never been afraid of scary movies. Her father was the master of the macabre and once she had been old enough they had always enjoyed the dark entertainment of murder, blood, and gore in films and books. She knew it was fake and had never been the type of girl to close her eyes in a scary movie. _

_But this was real. _

_This was happening._

_He paused at the door and leaned down to Julie's ear very clearly whispering so Alexis could hear "Goodbye, Mother."_

_The door suddenly slammed closed and so did Alexis' eyes. She could hear the sounds of choking and the unbolted chair rocking against the floor right outside the door. It lasted so much longer than she thought it would, but eventually all the sounds faded away. Alexis forced her eyes to stay shut even as she heard the door reopen. Tears squeezed out of her eyes and fell freely, cutting a well-worn path through the grime on her face. _

"_Alexis look at me." She didn't. "Look at me." He said more forcefully this time placing his hand on her arm. She could feel the rope still in it, pressing against her skin and opened her eyes to stare at it. Lightly stained with blood, the white was almost orange and the green was a murky brown. A sob escaped from her lips and she slowly turned her red eyes to fall upon those of the man in front of her._

_She knew who he was now. His appearance had changed since she had least seen the photo of him on her father's desk. Jerry Tyson. The Triple Killer. His hair was lighter and longer and his nose was different. But it was unmistakably him. She had burned him and every fact about his murders into her memory after what had happened with him and her dad. She still didn't know everything about that night, but she was smart enough to gather that he had captured and almost killed her father who had discovered his identity and then escaped._

_The hate that filled her was stronger than any of the pain she felt in her body. Stronger than her despair over Julie. Stronger than the constant fear she felt for her own life. She had never hated anyone in her entire life like she hated Jerry Tyson._

.

She had decided almost immediately after she had recognized Tyson to never let him know that she knew who he was. She instead had started trying to include a constant clue in the letters that she sent home to her father. Hoping beyond hope that he would not only realize that something had gone wrong, but actually figure out who had her. She had yet to figure out where she was other than an abandoned warehouse in Portland. Three weeks had almost passed and every time she wrote a new letter, her clues became more and more desperate. Each day that passed without her rescue sucked a little bit more hope from her.

She had faith in her father. He would come for her. He would save her in time.

_But what if he didn't?_

* * *

><p><em>AN: Whew. That was difficult, but necessary. I hope maybe you guys have better idea of what is going on with Alexis now. Perhaps you feel better about it. Perhaps you feel worse. I'm not sure, but at least you're informed._

_Sorry for yo-yo-ing your emotions. Stick with it and maybe I'll do some fancy tricks like "Walking the Dog" or "Around the World". Perhaps I've taken this little metaphor too far. Referencing yo-yo tricks is not cool. _

_Review and tell me alllllll about how you're feeling._


	23. Chapter 23

_Previously in Apples and Cherries...We saw Alexis again. Beckett and Castle know that Tyson has her. He killed Julie. _

* * *

><p><span>Chapter Twenty-Three:<span>

Castle and Beckett pulled an all-nighter.

There was absolutely no way that sleep would ever come to them. Not after the discovery that Castle had made. The more they thought about it, the more absolutely sure both of them were about its accuracy.

Jerry Tyson had Alexis. He fit the bill that they had been trying to fill. He had knowledge enough of Castle's personal life to know how important Alexis was. He was smart enough to pull it off. He probably held a grudge toward Castle for figuring out his true identity and forcing him to start his entire life over.

The only thing that didn't fit was the MO. Tyson didn't kidnap; he killed. Tyson didn't like teenagers; he liked young women. Tyson didn't like redheads; he only liked blondes.

Perhaps his "grudge" against Castle had simply been a strong enough incentive to break his routine in order to hit Castle where it hurt the most. Perhaps something had changed dramatically or traumatically in his life that had spurred on the shift in MO. They couldn't be certain at this point, but both their guts and the evidence at hand was pointing at Tyson.

It was four in the morning when Beckett suddenly slapped her palm to her forehead.

"Shit! Lanie! We should tell the boys and Lanie what we know. Now that we've got something to go on, they have to help, right?"

"What could they possibly do?" He looked hopeful and doubtful all at once.

"I don't know. Call the Portland police and send out a BOLO for Tyson in the area? Send them his files? Maybe get us some backup?"

"I thought we were going to lie low? Tyson doesn't know we're here. It's the only advantage we have."

"I think the time for lying low has passed. We just can't do this on our own. We can try, but, Castle, I just don't see it happening."

He nodded his head in acquiescence and she pulled out her phone to call Lanie.

Lanie's voice answered over the line, void of sleepiness. She must have already been awake, with the time difference across the country.

"Kate. Any news?"

"Yeah. We are pretty sure it's Jerry Tyson that has her."

"Tyson? The Triple Killer?" Her voiced had risen in pitch, but remained steady.

"The one and only. I don't want to go into detail, but Alexis left enough breadcrumbs in her letters. We finally put it together."

"What are we going to do?"

"I need you to talk to the boys. Get them to get Montgomery on our side. We are gonna need a BOLO out on Tyson in the Portland area. Maybe some support and manpower from the Portland PD."

"Sure. Of course. Anything." There was a pause on the line and Kate could almost hear Lanie thinking how to best word her next statement. "Kate…Why don't you just call the Captain yourself? He should—"

"—No." Kate said more fiercely that was perhaps necessary. She sighed and tried to diffuse the tension she created. "Listen. I don't really have time to make a bunch of calls. Castle and I are running out of time as it is." Then walking away from Castle and whispering into the phone so that he couldn't hear, she added, "I just can't deal with the Captain right now. The way I left…"

"You're being stupid, Kate. This is about more than just your pride."

"Don't tell me that. I know what's at stake here. Believe me. I'm not making this about me, I just…there is so much more I have to be doing. We need a game plan and we need it today. I trust the boys to get it done."

Lanie sighed in resignation, still not thoroughly convinced her friend was making the smartest decision. "Alright. Keep me updated. I'll get the boys on board so we can catch this guy once and for all."

"Thanks, Lanie." Kate hung up and sat back on the couch next to her partner.

"They're going to help?" he asked with heartbreaking hope in his eyes.

"Yes. Now you and I need a strategy. Start thinking."

They spent the rest of the morning debating the possible locations of Jerry Tyson and the possible methods of finding him. It was a fairly futile effort without the resources of a police department. All they had was a Google search engine to aid in their research.

"We just don't know enough about him to know where he would be hiding!" Castle yelled exasperatedly.

"I know. He could be anywhere. I've been thinking he's probably got her in some apartment somewhere. Maybe one of the houses in the district they're working on cleaning up. Prices would be cheaper there and he'd have thicker walls. I don't see him finding an abandoned warehouse. We can look into it, but he'd run too high a risk of discovery. Warehouses are never really abandoned. There're always homeless people and stragglers. It just doesn't seem smart. Like something that only happens on TV or in movies."

"Yeah, I guess. How is the search for missing blondes going?"

"I've got about thirty hits on missing blondes in the Portland area, but no bodies found. Nothing to point to Tyson's presence. We are never going to find him this way."

"Did you narrow the search to blondes missing in the past month?"

"Yeah. The pool is huge, Castle. This is a big city and people go missing in it just as much as New York, apparently."

She handed him a piece of paper with a very long list of missing blondes from the area. Beside each of their names in Beckett's neat capital letters was a short summary of the circumstances surrounding their disappearances.

She spoke again. "See? Everything looks normal. Women missing from bars and clubs late at night. Girls who got off late at work never show the next morning. It's what you'd see in any city. No mention of dead blondes with Tyson's MO."

Kate rubbed her thighs with the palms of her hands and flopped back into the couch cushions. Letting out a strangled groan, she rose up suddenly.

"I can't stay here anymore. I've got to get out of this place. I need…space. I need to think without staring at these freaking papers and this useless computer!"

"Where should we go?"

"Not we, Castle. You stay here. I have an errand to run, and…you can't come with me." She was already halfway to the door, grabbing her purse on the way.

"_What?"_

"There are some things I need to do and they'll go a lot faster if you stay here. I'll be back in a few hours, I promise."

Castle looked wary and like he wasn't entirely buying her explanation. He rose quickly and jogged to the door to head her off. Grabbing her arm, he made her turn to face him. His brow was furrowed and he looked like he was literally trying to read her face like the pages of a book. He had both hands on her now, one for each arm.

"You didn't…I dunno…Somehow figure out where she is and now you are going off to try and do this alone, right?"

She smiled at his blind faith in her ability to crack the mystery. Sadly, she had not.

"No, Castle. You know everything that I know."

His eyes penetrated even deeper until they seemingly found the evidence they sought. His head sank, half in relief and half in disappointment.

She opened the door and made her way over the threshold. Turning back to him she spoke once more.

"Castle? I promise when we figure out where Alexis is I will take you with me. I won't make you sit in the car for this one. Besides," she smiled bittersweetly, "you're all I've got for backup."

Shutting the door behind her, she made her way to the street and hailed a cab.

….

Kate was in desperate need of a weapon.

She needed some firepower straight from the streets. In New York City, it was pretty easy to find a gun if you knew where to look. But this was Portland and Kate had no idea which corners and shady characters could provide her with a much-needed firearm. Leaning forward from her seat in the back she decided just to ask the cab driver.

"Hey. This is probably going to sound like an odd question, but I just recently moved here and I was wondering if there were any parts of town that a lady might want to steer clear of after dark?"

Like most men, the cabbie was ever so ready to play a chivalrous role for a beautiful damsel.

"Well, that would have to be between Cumberland Avenue and I-295. Someone as pretty as you shouldn't be walking around there. Only shady place in town, really."

"Great. Can you take me there?"

The look he gave her in the rearview mirror was incredulous.

"Excuse me?"

"I'd like to see it. Can you take me there."

Hesitantly, he nodded. "Sure thing."

Driving off in correct direction, Kate leaned back again in her seat and looked out the window. It had been easier than she had thought it would be, but she still didn't really know what she was going to do once she got there.

Fifteen minutes later, she was paying a very nervous and almost guilty looking cab driver for the ride, promising him she'd be careful. She walked for a block and a half until she came under and overpass and saw a collection of individuals gathered at the pylon. _Well, here goes nothing. This oughta be interesting…_

…

Two hours later, a slight goose chase, and $1,225 dollars lighter, Kate walked away with a .40 S&W Glock 22 tucked into the back of her jeans and under her shirt. The price was steep, but that's what you got for buying on the street. The men she had eventually dealt with had thrown in a box of ammo and a 6-inch stiletto "on the house". She had always been good with a knife, but rarely found herself in need of using one. The NYPD was not in the habit of emphasizing knife use with their officers. Most of her training had come in high school from a boyfriend who thought knives made him look edgy.

The knife was currently lying in the bottom of her purse. She'd strap it somewhere to her person later, but for now she let it lie there amongst the tic-tacs and forgotten pennies. The comfort of the cold metal gun pressed against the small of her back was a feeling she hadn't even realized she'd missed. It was the twin of the gun she had laid on Montgomery's desk days before.

She felt less powerless. She felt more confident. She felt like Detective Kate Beckett again with the Glock in her possession. It didn't matter that this one had the serial number filed off. A gun was a gun. This one may have had a dark past, but she wasn't concerned with that. She was only concerned with its future. Its destiny was to put a bullet between the eyes of Jerry Tyson.

The violent thought thrilled her.

She forwent the cab ride home and chose instead to walk the streets. The bad side of town was far smaller than any of the multiple ones in New York and before she knew it, she was back downtown in the wholesome streets of Portland.

Her mind was mostly still occupied by trying to clear a new and fresh space to think of ways to find the whereabouts of Tyson. Nothing seemed like it would work. Nothing seemed like it would be fast enough. She needed the resources of a police department to do anything resembling productive.

She felt like she was letting Castle down. He was trusting her. He was trusting _Detective_ Beckett to help him find his daughter. She just couldn't bring herself to tell him that she wasn't a detective anymore. She had lost that position in order to come out west and help him. It was ironic that the only way for her to help him had been to resign, but she couldn't actually _help_ him without the privileges of a detective. She could almost hear Joseph Heller laughing at her misfortune.

Trying to fight away her guilt, her eye caught a window display of a shop she was passing. Halting abruptly she stared with eyes wide as everything clicked into place in that moment. A plan. The plan that they needed. Quickly walking into the store, she picked up the item that had caught her eye and laid it on the counter to purchase it. Not wanting to waste another second, she ran out to the street with the bag in hand and caught a cab back to Castle's loft.

_Finally!_ She wasn't going to fail Castle. She had figured out exactly what they needed to do. She couldn't wait to see the look on his face when he realized the genius of her plan. She couldn't wait for that heartbroken and bleak expression to finally leave his eyes. She couldn't wait for his smile.

* * *

><p><em>AN: My dad spent a summer teaching me knife tricks. I really like knives, so I wrote one into the story._

__Also, I don't own __Catch-22__. Joseph Heller does. Or did.__

_What was your favorite part? Anything particularly in or out of character? Who's read Catch-22 and had their minds blown? Review!_


	24. Chapter 24

_Previously in Apples and Cherries...Alexis is NOT getting sexually assaulted. Just normal assaulted. Castle and Beckett know it was 3XK. Beckett left and got a gun, a knife, and a plan._

* * *

><p><span>Chapter Twenty-Four:<span>

Castle sat fidgeting on the couch. Kate had been gone for hours. The stacks of notes no longer held his attention and he could only sit and hypothesize about what exactly her "errands" were. He still wasn't sure if he fully believed that she hadn't figured everything out and run off to take down Tyson in a valiant effort to spare him the violence that would follow.

He knew he'd be emotional when they finally found the triple killer. Not emotional in the traditional sense of tears and sadness, but anger filled. Hatred. Uncontrolled, pure rage. He knew that those emotions could be potentially dangerous and he knew that Beckett knew it too. It wasn't outside the realm of possibilities that she would leave him behind with good intentions.

But his need to be with her for the final showdown went beyond his rage for Tyson and absolute need to be there for Alexis. He needed to be there for_ her_. She couldn't face him alone. She needed back up. She needed her partner. So the thought that she might have gone without him had left him consumed with worry.

He had to protect her.

She was as important to him as his mother and Alexis. It may have seemed strange or hyperbolic, but she was _his_ as much as they were. He'd claimed her in his heart as one of the few people he'd do anything for. Be anything for. Be everything for. The fact that she had flown all the way across the country on very little more than a hunch showed him that she at least felt a fraction of the same for him. She wanted to be there for him too. These past few days had made that abundantly and refreshingly clear. And if it weren't for the chilling omnipresence of a serial killer in their lives, he'd make his reciprocation clear.

He shifted on the couch, the vivid memories of his last encounter with Tyson flooding his mind for the hundredth time. He could almost feel the bindings around his wrists. The helplessness of having his hands literally tied behind his back was something he would never forget.

.

_It hadn't been like his "research" when he would get himself out of various sticky situations. This time there was a gun to his chest. This time Ryan was unconscious on the floor. This time he could actually die. _

_He dealt with it the only way he had known how. He had written the story. He had read the man in front of him and nailed his motivations to the wall for everyone to see. He wanted Tyson to know that even if he murdered him, he had not won completely. He had been found out. He had been foiled. He spun his tale, trying to buy himself precious time._

"_Oh its not complicated. You were raised by a single mother. She was blonde, oh she was beautiful, but she never wanted you. When you were what, twelve, I'm guessing? She died suddenly, lets say drug overdose. You go into foster care, the bad kind. You have so much hate, so much hate towards your mother for abandoning you that you kill these women to get back at her. But you leave them looking peaceful, because as much as you hated your mother…you LOVED your mother."_

_Castle remembered the dead hollowness in Tyson's eyes. They weren't the eyes of a human. A shark, maybe. They flashed rage and incredulity as the man tied in front of him had the audacity to tell him who he was. Tell him _why_ he was. He fought back. Two could play this game._

"_You're drawn to death. You like to be around it, because it thrills you. Now where does that come from? You're own suppressed impulses? How close to death do you wanna get?"_

_._

The shivers that the memory brought wracked Castle's body. Tyson's words had haunted his nightmares for months afterwards. He _was_ drawn to death. He prayed that Tyson wouldn't use Alexis to bring him closer to it.

The sound of a text message being received by his phone interrupted his thoughts. It was from Kate.

_I have a plan. Call a Portland press contact. Tell them you will be at the Portland Center for the Performing Arts tomorrow night for the symphony. Tell them you're bringing the real live Nikki Heat as your date. Tell them you'll send them a picture for the first article and you'll pose with me tomorrow at the show if they can get the story out in tomorrow's paper._

The text came in three parts it was so long. He read it twice, his heart hammering in his chest. She had a plan. She'd done it. Her little jaunt for free time had apparently been enough for her to come up with a plan. His hopes rising and nearly spilling out of him, he fumbled around with his phone until he pulled up the contact he needed. Shannon Klennin of the Tribune.

He listened to the ringing in his ear until he heard her familiar voice come over the phone.

"Rick Castle. It's been a while. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Melting into his public persona effortlessly he schmoozed like a pro. "Well hello, Shannon. It's good to hear the dulcet tones of your voice."

"Yeah, yeah. Cut with the flattery and give me the goods." He could hear the smile in her voice.

"You know me too well."

"Usually it's Paula calling, but I'm assuming you're looking for some press attention. I hear you haven't been in the papers nearly as much lately. Is the playboy finally needing a rest?"

He laughed charmingly, "Rest? I don't even know the meaning of the word. I've got a good tip for you though…"

"Alright. Shoot."

"I'm gonna be at the Portland Center for the Performing Arts tomorrow night for the symphony. Guess who I'm bringing?"

"A nice little piece of brainless arm candy?"

"Hardly. Detective Katherine Beckett. The real life Nikki Heat. And you get to be the one to break the story that millions of my fans have been waiting for."

"No way! You guys are dating now?" She paused in the conversation, always looking for the story behind the story. "Why are you telling me this?"

Castle faltered. He hadn't thought she would ask for a reason behind his tip off.

He recovered as quickly as he could. "Umm… We've been dating for a while and she came to Portland with me for a getaway. We are both ready to go public and I guess I just figured I'd let you do the honors. If you don't want them I can always—"

"—No, no. I'll take the story. Symphony tomorrow?"

"Yep. Also, I'll send you a picture of us together in a bit. I want it in print tomorrow."

"I dunno, Rick. You'll have to get it to me fast. My editor doesn't like last minute submissions. We send the layout to the printers in a few hours."

"I'll make it worth your while, I promise."

"You better. See you at the symphony."

"See ya there, Shannon. Start writing now. Make it juicy. Say whatever you want, I want this story to be big."

They hung up on each other and Castle congratulated himself on executing his orders from Beckett so quickly. Smiling to himself, he wondered exactly what Beckett's plan was. Picking up his phone to call her, he heard the door start to open. Rising from his position on the couch, his smile grew as he awaited her entrance.

When she walked through the door, the smile flew from his face. His stomach sank to the floor. His heart broke. He had only one thought.

_No_.

* * *

><p><em>AN: The next time you're at the playground and someone asks you "Which one is yours?" you should respond "I haven't decided yet..."_

_I couldn't think of anything to put in my author's note, so I told you something funny I read on a site today. Hope it makes you giggle. But don't giggle too hard because Alexis is still kidnapped, Castle's heart is breaking, and there is world famine. Take a moment of silence between your giggles._

_Review please. I break at least 3 of the 7 deadly sins whenever I read your reviews and I'd like to hit a few more. SO GIVE ME MORE REVIEWS! Oh look, I just reached "greed"._


	25. Chapter 25

_Previously in Apples &Cherries…Kate told Castle to call the newspapers and tell them she was going to be his date for the symphony. When she came home, he was all: Nuuuuuu!_

_**Can I just say**__ that you guys' reviews for the last two chapters have been extremely entertaining. You guys are freaking __**ADORABLE **__with your theory building. Congrats to those who figured it out!_

* * *

><p><span>Chapter Twenty-Five:<span>

She was blonde.

"NO!"

Gone were the chestnut curls that he loved so much.

"No. No, no, no, no, no."

He put a hand over his eyes and rubbed them hard, as if that would make the image of Kate with straight blonde hair disappear from his mind.

He choked on her name. "Kate."

"Castle, calm down. It's just a wig."

"Calm down? _Calm down_!" He was yelling now, his deep voice reverberating off the walls of the loft, causing Kate to jump slightly at his vehemence.

"Goddammit, Kate! This better not be what I think it is. Are you using yourself as…as bait?" His voice rose again to a higher, louder pitch. He was stalking towards her, anger in his eyes. They were flaring blue flames. The arcs of laugh lines that normally framed his eyes were devoid of their levity, instead becoming harsh trenches that emphasized the fury of his glare.

"Stop freaking the hell out, Castle!" She had forgotten to stand her ground and her autonomic nervous system seemed to have shanghaied control of her legs, slowly retreating them from his advancing form. She suddenly found her back pressed against the wall with no escape from his fast approaching figure. He looked so tall_. _"Look, we're getting nowhere trying to find him. All we have to do is get me in this wig next to you in a picture in the newspaper, and he'll come straight to us! He'll find _us_ Cast—"

"—NO! If I…" he seemed to choke on his words, his voice shaking in rage and his eyes blinking once slowly, painfully, "lose you too… I won't be able to… He can't have you too, Kate!" Pounding his fist against the wall, he punctuated his intensity and Kate felt the boom roll through her back.

And then before she even knew what was happening, he rolled his eyes back into his head and released the feral noise of an animal losing control. His fist hit the wall once again, softer this time and then before she could even process the sudden movement, his mouth was covering hers. Hot and demanding, he claimed her. His kiss finished the thought that his words had neglected to. _He can't have you too, Kate. You're mine._

She was his and that's all there was to it, apparently. Bringing his fist from the wall, he roughly held her jaw in his palm, pulling her lips even closer to make sure she wouldn't escape just yet. She'd kissed him back almost immediately after she felt the pull of his lips at her own. A kiss like that couldn't go unreturned for long. Not when it was his lips. Not when it was this heat. Not when it was these emotions. She pushed her lips greedily back into his.

His other hand rose up to tear the long blonde wig from her head, sending her soft, brown curls tumbling over his hands and her shoulders.

"Not you." He whispered against her.

She bit down lightly on his lip to stop his words. Just for now. Scraping her teeth along it, she released the tortured flesh and relieved it with her tongue, tasting the mix of their flavors. He pulled her lower lip in between his and she moaned in a way that he could feel in his very core. That very center of him that was dedicated to her. It sparked, then flared, then burned wildly. Their hands were desperately pulling and pushing and generally forgetting any sense of boundaries as they fulfilled ambitions of their own.

His came to grip her around her waist and he pushed her further into the wall, palms pressing forcefully against her ribs. He ripped his lips from hers and attacked her neck with kisses and scrapes of his teeth, enough to mark her, but not enough to hurt. Kate's control snapped and her leg rose to wrap around his hip and she used her ankle to pull him that much closer to her. He released a primal growl and hoisted her higher on the wall so that her remaining leg dangled inches above the floor, her weight now supported by the press of his solid body and the strong wall.

She was hot. His hands and lips and chest were burning her. Fire was erupting anywhere he touched and she pulled his mouth back to hers from its questing at her neck to stifle a moan before she could release it. She had absolutely no idea what was happening, but she had never felt this way in her entire life. Needy. Out of control. Desperate.

It ended as abruptly as it had started, he pulled away from her completely, leaving his hands at her waist until her feet hit the solid ground. Panting hard and frozen in time, they started at each other in a curious mix of surprise and desire. Her lips were red and swollen from his kiss and he could feel her hot breath against his cheek. The only thing that stopped him from pulling her to him again was the slight twitch of her jaw as it started to form words.

"Rick."

Her voice was breathless, barely a whisper. He was normally so adept at reading her expressions, but they were flitting too fast across her face for him to catch onto any of them. Her finger slowly brushed along his lower lip, wiping away the evidence of her kiss. She closed her eyes before bringing the fingers to her own lips, biting the very tip of a nail. Breathing deeply she stepped slightly to the side and away from his swaying body. She bent over and picked up the wig from the floor, holding it between them beseechingly. Her autumn eyes met his.

"It's all we have."

He shook his head in denial. "There has to be another way. You can't—you can't do this." He was begging now. They both heard it in his voice.

"We are running out of time, Rick! I don't need to tell you that do I? Just…just trust me okay? This is the way." She laid a hand briefly on his chest and her eyes followed the way it now rose and fell rapidly with each breath he took.

The torn look in his eyes was painful for her to see. She had been expecting smiles and excitement. She hadn't thought that the plan would cause…this reaction. Her lips were still throbbing from his kiss and she desperately fought the urge to run her fingers over them. He had to accept that this was the way to get Alexis back.

He closed his eyes for a moment and then found hers. The look she saw was undiluted trust and resignation.

"Okay. What do we have to do?"

….

After a tense and almost uncomfortable conversation, both Beckett and Castle agreed that they would need formalwear for tomorrow night's symphony. Gathering up the things they would need to go out, the two left the loft and made their way to the shopping district across the Willamette. It was in walking distance and getting some fresh air was lifting Rick's mood significantly. Oh, he still was not pleased with the situation and Kate's plan, but he had seemed to reconcile himself to the fact that it was indeed their only option at the moment.

Kate was wearing the blonde wig. He would find himself catching her in his peripheral vision and not even making that unconscious mental recognition that it was Beckett. That disturbed him greatly, so he spent most of the walk with his head fully turned to the side, focusing on her profile.

She was still beautiful as a blonde. She didn't look like _his_ Kate, but she was still utterly gorgeous. If he kept his eyes on her face, though, he wouldn't lose that feeling of _Kate-ness_ that he got around her. She had the most perfect nose. It wasn't petite and dainty, but it wasn't a huge honker like his own. It had character. It gently sloped until the very tip where it turned slightly up, testing his restraint. Sometimes at work, he could hardly contain his urge to press a light kiss to the very tip.

Kate smacked his arm and interrupted his internal musings on her very fine nose.

"Castle? Quit. Staring."

He turned his head away quickly and apologized in a rush of air. "Sorry."

"See? Not so opposed to the blonde wig now, are ya? You _like_ it."

Castle gave an incredulous laugh. She couldn't possibly believe that he found her more attractive this way, could she?

"You look great. Not the same, though. I miss the brown."

She ducked her face and let the curtain of synthetic strands cover her blush. They hadn't talked about the insane kiss at all. _It was insane, right?_ _Yes, of course it was insane._ She couldn't quite shake the feel of his lips on her neck or his hands spanning her waist. It consumed the background of every thought she had. She could almost feel the heat radiating off his body as they walked, although it may have just been the remnants of a memory.

She had no idea what to think of the kiss. He had been so forceful. Possessive. He kissed her like he had been drowning and she was his first gasp of air. He didn't just want her. He needed her. And that thought consumed her like a fire. For the entirety of the walk, he had been staring at her profile, which served only to fan the flames that were burning her. Trying to shake the feelings inside her, she struggled to pull down a façade of normalcy.

"Oh sure, Castle. We all know blondes are your type. All I'm gonna say is don't get used to it. As soon as we get Alexis back, I'm burning this damn thing."

"I'll provide the lighter fluid."

There he was, being sweet again. She could see the worry in his eyes still and she was becoming afraid it would find its way permanently into his features. Switching the subject from anything relating to her hair or Castle's preference in women, she paused outside an independent florist shop.

"This seems like as good a place as any for the picture. Go get that guy and ask him to snap a quick one of us."

"Are we posing or trying to look paparazzi candid?"

She thought for a mere second before responding confidently. "Candid, I think. That's a more realistic way for our fictitious cover to be blown."

Castle walked away after a nod of agreement and went to presumably ask the man working the counter to snap a quick picture of the two of them. He walked back to Kate with the man following closely behind.

"Ready?" he asked her hesitantly.

"As I'll ever be."

Castle stepped awkwardly near her and seemed to have absolutely no idea what to do with his hands. He settled for putting one high on her waist while the other hovered indecisively near her shoulder. She grabbed it in her own and placed it along her jaw, stepping in closer to him. His hand was warm against her skin and she struggled to keep her eyes from expressing how his touch was making her feel. This was staged. This was fake. This wasn't real, they were only posing.

Her breath gave away what her eyes were attempting to hide. It was coming fast and shallow. Their position, no matter how awkward the situation, was reminding her of the mere hours ago when she'd had her leg wrapped around his hip and her tongue in his mouth. She put a hand on his chest and then leaned in close to his face, ignoring the flick of his eyes to her lips that were inches away. The scene looked like a loving couple about to share a kiss with a backdrop of various blossoming flora.

Speaking quietly, Kate directed her words at the man holding Rick's iPhone in camera mode. "Take the picture now, please."

She heard the click and immediately pulled away from the electricity of Castle's embrace and walked to meet the man with the phone. Peering down at the screen she gave her objective approval. Turning back to Castle she saw he was half-frozen where she had left him. Clearing her throat, she addressed him.

"It looks good. Let's send it to Shannon now so she can get it in print." Handing him the phone she let him press the necessary buttons to email it with the shop's wireless, since his texting was still down.

"Done."

A few minutes later as they continued their search for a dress and a suit, a text binged in on Castle's other phone, confirming that the reporter had indeed received it in time and it would be going out in tomorrow's news. Smiling at their success, Castle turned to Beckett and a slight frown appeared at the corner of his mouth.

"Not to burst our little bubble, Detective, but I think there might be a slight flaw in the plan."

"Yeah? And what is that?"

"What are the odds that Tyson is actually going to read page six? How do we even know he's going to see the picture?"

"I guess we don't really…" She had already thought of this, but hearing it from Castle made it seem so much more hopeless. "I was thinking that he would probably be monitoring you somehow. Most likely through the press."

Castle nodded and then pulled the flip phone out of his pocket, calling Shannon.

"Hey, long time no talk!"

"Hey Richard. Great picture! I can't believe she's a blonde now. This is gonna make one helluva story."

"About that…I need another favor."

"Oh no. What is it this time?"

"I need the article and the picture to be on the front page."

"WHAT!"

"Hear me out—"

"No. No way can I make that happen."

Desperate, Castle spoke over her. "I'll be willing to do anything. Name your price. Name the Tribune's price. It's gotta be on the front page."

"Richard, this is ridiculous. The front page is for_ actual_ news. As happy as I am for you two adorable lovers, there are wars and politics and _things_ that take precedence. You'll get a prime location on page six!"

"It needs to be the front page. Whatever it costs, Shannon. I'll do anything. I'll fund the Tribune out of my own pocket. I know you guys are floundering over there."

Shannon sighed heavily into the phone, knowing the paper needed his money, but hesitant to put a celeb story on the front page.

"I'll see what I can do."

"You're an angel, Shannon! An angel." He knew when she said something like that it meant she'd get it done. "Seriously just name the price and the check will be in the mail."

"I'm holding you to that."

She hung up and Castle turned to Beckett with pride on his face.

"That might help, right?"

She smiled with pride and relief. "Sure will. He can't miss it if it's on the front page, right?"

She hoped beyond hope, that Tyson was monitoring the media for news of Richard Castle. She hoped that he would see Castle with a blonde on his arm and not be able to resist. She hoped he would recognize her for who she was think that perhaps by killing her, he could hurt the author even more.

She hoped she didn't die in the process.

* * *

><p><em>AN: Yay! A not entirely fluffless chapter. Not that it was a particularly fluffy kiss. In fact, it might be the opposite of a fluffy kiss. In any case, THEY KISSED! They still can't…do anything about their feelings yet. It would be weird with Alexis in mortal peril. I just can't see Castle being emotionally stable enough to start anything with Kate if his daughter is still kidnapped._

_**Also: I am well aware of the fact that there is probably no WAY that Castle would get his little story on the front page. Just go with it. We are gonna make the jump that it's possible with enough money to grease the wheels. **_

_So…Whadja think of the kiss?_


	26. Chapter 26

_Previously in Apples & Cherries...Kate bought a blonde wig to bait Tyson at the symphony. Rick was all "Not you too, mlaaaghhaa". They totally kissed (I won't judge you if you go back and read that part). Took a picture of themselves and sent it to Shannon the reporter so they'd be in the morning paper._

* * *

><p><span>Chapter Twenty-Six:<span>

Tyson stared unblinkingly at the image that sat on his lap. His fingers were dusty with ink from running their tips endlessly over the text of the print. Tracing the rectangular outline of the enlarged photo, he rubbed at his scarred and tender lip carefully. Wincing in pain, he slowly brought the cheap cigarette to his lips and took a long draw. Let it calm his nerves and fill his lungs with a cloud of warm grey.

_Was this some kind of joke? Did they think he was that stupid? Just some common murdering thug from the streets?_ He had been checking the New York papers daily for news of Richard Castle. Just to keep tabs on him. It was pure luck that he had seen the image of the cocky writer staring back at him from the Portland paper at the counter of the drugstore. He'd been pointing out the pack of cigarettes to the man at the counter when he noticed Castle's smug profile in a stack of newspapers on the floor behind the counter.

Seeing Richard Castle in full color had prompted him to immediately call the theatre camp. He had been calling every once in a while to make sure that Rick hadn't found out about Alexis' disappearance. To his knowledge, the "doting father" had no clue his only daughter had been missing for weeks.

But this? This was too much. Richard Castle was in Portland with that detective of his and he was supposed to think it had nothing to do with him? That he had come all the way over to this end of the states and hadn't even bothered to check in with his daughter? No. No. No. There was something more here.

The call to the camp confirmed his suspicions. A journalist had come poking around about Alexis. Of course it had been Rick. That man wouldn't know subtlety if it gently whispered in his ear to introduce itself.

_So, Rick finally knew._

The thought gave him a thrill and sent a fresh batch of nerves through his hollow chest.

That arrogant writer thought that he could lure him out of hiding? As if dying the hair of Katherine Beckett blonde would change anything? It only made their ploy that much more obvious. It only clenched his near certainty that they knew he was here. They'd be at the symphony tonight, waiting for him on white horses with pearly hopes and dreams of good conquering evil.

It was almost comical how simple their plan was. _They must be desperate. Good. Desperate people make mistakes._

_And this? This was a huge mistake. _

Oh, he'd be waiting at the symphony for them. And they'd never see it coming.

Smiling smugly to himself he pressed the hot, orange end of his cigarette straight through the papery profile of Richard Castle. In mere hours, that man's world was going to come crumbling down and Tyson was going to force him to watch while it happened. And lucky for him, Rick had provided him with a new toy. A tall, blonde, shiny new toy.

* * *

><p><em>AN: I wrote this chapter after drinking a LOT of whiskey. So…I may or may not be sliiiiiightly more than tipsy. So, yeah. Hope it doesn't suck. _

_Apologies for the shortness. The length is special..._


	27. Chapter 27

_Previously in Apples & Cherries…Kate and Rick kissed, bought some formalwear, and got the picture of them into the newspaper. Tyson saw the picture and is not at all fooled by the plan._

* * *

><p><span>Chapter Twenty-Seven:<span>

Kate smoothed down the satin surface of her forest green dress, drying her palms and eliminating the nonexistent wrinkles in the fine material. The bodice of the dress clung gently to her skin, but the skirt hung lose enough for the line of the gun holster strapped to her thigh to go unnoticed. The withdrawn stiletto was taped very low on her back and it was hidden by the slight bunching waves of the dress. It was uncomfortable, but kept the weapon concealed.

She tucked any remaining wisps of her natural hair under the mesh of the blonde wig and stared at the stranger who stood before her. Taking a deep breath and focusing on what had to be done, she pushed her uncertainties to the back of her mind. Her hand grasped the doorknob and she turned, plastering confidence onto her features.

Rick was waiting in the living room, pacing back and forth in his tux. She watched as he brought his hand up to run through his hair and then withdrew it before he could mess it up. He looked nervous and pale. She approached him slowly, her black heels echoing on the wood flooring.

He looked dashing in his tux and her mind immediately locked onto the memory of the last time she had seen him like this. The Rick of her memory did not have the light sheen of nervous perspiration on his brow and his hands had not been in constant, fidgety motion.

"Are you ready for this?" she asked as she approached.

He looked up at her for the first time and she could see his eyes taking all of her in. The normal gleam of appreciation was still there, but it was dampened considerably by the circumstances.

"No." He passed his sleeved wrist over his forehead to blot away the sweat. "This isn't going to work. He's not going to show up. Or he will show up and he'll just outsmart me again."

"It'll work. And if it doesn't then we will just have to try something else."

"Oh, that's comforting."

"Well, it might not be what you want to hear, but it's the truth. I'm not promising this is going to work. There are a hundred things that could go wrong, but we've got to try."

He took a deep breath, ran his hand through his hair and then finally stopped the unceasing movements of his body.

"Okay. I'm ready. Let's just do this."

Kate walked up to him and raised her hand to his hair. She combed her fingers through it, trying to settle the upset his hands had caused. He closed his eyes and breathed slowly, deeply. She let her fingers linger in his hair perhaps a bit longer than was necessary for the job they were doing. It seemed to be calming him, and she needed him to be calm. She smoothed her hands down the lapels of his jacket and then smiled at him.

"Okay, Castle. No more messing up your hair. Put your hands in your pockets and let's go."

He obeyed.

…..

The Portland Center for the Performing Arts was glowing. The glass façade of the front wall reflected the lights from the city and the air was filled with the cultured hum of conversation from the patrons. It was a warm enough night that the ladies' shoulders were bare of coats and furs and shawls, but the men all wore their jackets. The population of symphony-goers overflowed from the lobby and onto the street in front of the theatre. A short red carpet had been laid out leading to the doors and a few photographers lined the sides and even mingled with the crowd, taking shots of anyone who might be worth it.

Kate's arm was woven with Castle's as they exited the cab and faced the flood of attention. Lights flashed but there was no tsunami of excitement or screaming fans. Kate's green dress flowed behind her and played gently with the night breeze in waves and ripples. Castle's hands were sweaty, but his face held a smile and his eyes were cool.

They scanned the crowd. Scanned the lobby. Scanned the streets.

No Tyson.

Both were on high alert for any signs of movement in their direction. Anyone who came to greet Richard Castle and his "lovely lady" were immediately considered the enemy in the minds of Rick and Kate until they mentally cleared the approaching person as "Not Tyson".

A tall woman in a yellow dress approached the duo with a smile on her face. Castle leaned over to Beckett and whispered in her ear, "That's Shannon. Smile."

Kate obeyed, but the smile was small. She was still busy scanning the crowd for guns, ropes, or Tyson.

"Richard Castle! You're cutting a fine figure tonight." Shannon leaned in and they kissed cheeks in greeting before she turned and bestowed the same on Kate.

"Nice to meet you, Detective Beckett. I've read a lot about you."

"You have?"

"Of course. I'm always very thorough."

Castle turned to face Kate and stage whispered in her ear, "No doubt she knows the middle names of your great-grandparents by now. Stalker."

"Hush, you." Shannon narrowed her eyes and then cleared her throat, brushing a wild curl from her face. "So. Do I get an interview with you two? I'd like some facts to follow that conjecture filled article yesterday. That was the grandest exercise in stepping lightly around any sort of definitive statement I've ever written."

"I told you that you could just say whatever you want."

"You told her what?" Kate turned to him and crossed her arms over her chest.

"We were in a rush! I didn't think you'd mind. You told me to tell her we were on a date so I figured you wouldn't really care…"

Kate ground her teeth together and pinned him with a stare, reluctant to speak her mind in front of a reporter. Shannon picked up on the tense vibe anyway and arched one perfectly groomed eyebrow.

"So…you two aren't together?"

Castle jumped in quickly. "No, no. We are. Just tell your readers that we've been dating for a while, she's still my muse, and the next book will be even more explosive than the last."

"Alright." Shannon looked at them skeptically, not buying the story. "I'll give the people what they want. The story will be out tomorrow for everyone to read."

The chimes sounded from the speakers, signaling the impending beginning of the concert and people slowly but surely moved as one until even the lobby was empty. Shannon had a photographer snap a few exclusive shots of the two in standard red carpet poses before they said their goodbyes. Beckett and Castle found their seats and sat down for what would surely be the least boring, least relaxing, least enjoyable symphony ever.

They hadn't spoken much since their departure from the red carpet. Both had had their attention too focused on the crowd. Too obsessed with spotting Tyson. They turned to each other to speak at the same time.

"Do you think he's here?"

"Where is he?"

They both smiled nervously and Kate tried to tuck her hair behind her ear, but found the blonde wig did not like to be forced into that position. She dropped her useless hand into her lap and rubbed her thumb before bringing it up to her mouth to rest on her lip.

"Stop fidgeting, Beckett."

"I'm not fidgeting."

He raised his eyebrows and then pulled her hand away from her mouth. She exhaled loudly and went back to simply rubbing one thumb with the other. He rolled his eyes.

"What if he didn't see the article, Castle?"

"If he didn't see it, we'll think of a new plan after the symphony. A better plan. Just like you said. Besides, just because he didn't see our first one, doesn't mean he won't see any of the ones that are bound to stem from tonight. Shannon will keep her word."

She turned to face him more fully and respond, but the lights in the spacious, gorgeous theatre dimmed and the sounds of the symphony warming up died down and were replaced by a silence that slowly spread through the building. A man in a tux walked onto the stage and spoke a few words, but neither Beckett nor Castle were listening. Their thoughts and attentions still revolved around the plan._ Bait Tyson. Come to symphony. Find Tyson. Capture Tyson. Find Alexis._ Not the most thorough, but it would do.

The musicians onstage were playing through a lively piece and Kate found herself wishing that the symphony would pass as quickly as the notes were being played. She didn't want to just sit here for hours waiting. She wanted to actively search the crowd. She wanted to lock all the doors and then go through each person present, one by one until they found him.

If he was even there.

She had this horrible feeling that he wasn't. That he hadn't been monitoring the news for Castle. That he had no clue that they were in Portland, let alone the symphony tonight. What then? She couldn't face Castle again without a plan. He wouldn't survive many more days knowing who had his daughter, but not how to get her back. It fell on her shoulders to figure it out. She was the detective—former, or not. She was the one who had to figure it out. Put together the clues and find that girl.

She let the music wash over her and into the background as she systematically went through each of Alexis' letters in her mind. She'd memorized them somewhere along the way. Reading something hundreds of times a day can do that to you. Words and theories collided forming ideas that she filed away for later use. _Cherry street. Oak street. Anything by a MAX stop. Roads named Lex. Maybe they could send the letters to a lab in Portland and have them analyzed for particulates or clues to the location._

_All this, if tonight didn't yield results. _

Castle nudged her. People were standing and heading towards the exits. Intermission.

That meant the symphony was more than halfway through. The intermission was probably only five to ten minutes and Beckett and Castle rose quickly to join the crowd and search faces for Tyson. They reached the lobby, but the huge mass of people made searching one by one inefficient given their time limit.

Kate grabbed the crook of his arm with one hand and dragged him up a set of stairs, pausing on the landing.

"We need to get a better view of this crowd, but I want to search the upper floors too. Somewhere where he might have a view of us."

"Did you want to split up?"

"Yeah."

She bent over at the waist, and began to pull the hem of her dress up.

"What—What are you doing?"

"I don't want you to be unarmed if we are splitting up. I'm giving you my gun."

"You have a gun? How?"

"Not the time, Castle. Just take it and go search the crowd from the second floor."

"Keep your gun, Kate. I brought my own." He opened his jacket to reveal a gun at his side.

"You have a gun? How?"

He smiled. "Not the time, Kate. I had one at the loft. Now go before this damn intermission is over."

She turned without another word and they parted ways. Climbing stair after stair, she quickly ascended the building. Where would he hide? What would be the best view of them? Not too high, he'd want to see their faces. Not too low, either. Last minute tickets on a lower balcony would have been unavailable to someone without Castle's connections.

She followed her gut and burst through the doors of one of the middle level balconies. Scanning quickly, she saw nobody but a few elderly couples that had remained seated for the intermission. She walked forward and pressed her hands into the balcony rail, looking out at the view it afforded her. She could see their seats perfectly from here. This would have been perfect. _Maybe one more floor up. Check one more floor up._

Turning back, she rushed in her heels to the stairs and took them two at a time, pausing at the landing to pull her gun from under her dress. This wasn't the time to care if someone saw her with the gun. She needed to be prepared.

Pushing through the identical doors one floor up, she saw that the balcony was empty. Yet again. She dropped her gun to her side and reached into her clutch to pull out her cell phone. Pressing the speed dial for Castle she listened to it ring once before he picked up. She made her way back through the door, gun in one hand phone in the other.

"Did you see him?" she asked.

"No."

"Damnit!"

The chimes sounded again to draw the audience back to their seats. Intermission was over. They'd have to wait until the end of the concert now.

"I'll be back down in a second. He's not up here. Meet you at our seats."

She hung the phone up and leaned against the wall, pulling her hem up once again to re-holster the gun before the people made their way back to the balcony. Strands of her blonde wig fell forward, obscuring her vision as she shoved the Glock into place. Straightening up, she barely had time to register the rag pressed to her mouth before the oppressive blackness took her.

_A/N: Do you feel the crescendo?_

_**Bad news**: Due to work, brainclogs, and the mafia, updates will be less regular. But still often enough. _


	28. Chapter 28

_Previously in Apples & Cherries…Kate and Rick arrived at the symphony but couldn't find Tyson. They split up at intermission to check the crowd and upper balconies. Right at the end of intermission, Kate got chloroformed._

**Warning: **_There's naughty language in this one. I rated this thing T so I don't see why I'm even warning you. That's what the rating was for. Proceed._

* * *

><p><span>Chapter Twenty-Eight:<span>

Castle beat Beckett back to their seats and he let his eyes roam the milling crowd in search of her soon to be approaching figure. His nerves and frustration had cranked up a notch or two during intermission. He had scanned the mass of people from the second floor terrace, but had seen not a single person who could even possibly fit Tyson's profile.

He'd focused not only on the guests, but also on individuals dressed in staff clothing. Tyson was a pro at blending in and Castle couldn't afford to neglect those in uniform. As the minutes had ticked by during intermission, the panic had slowly begun to seep through every membrane of his body. He had not quite realized how blind they would be in this plan.

They'd come in to hunt a man, but he couldn't shake the feeling that they were the ones being hunted. He felt like there were eyes on him, but no matter how many times he'd looked over his shoulder, he never saw Tyson.

Sitting stiffly in the chair, Castle readjusted his position countless times, waiting for a stunning blonde in a green dress to make her way back to him. He needed her by his side to tell him out loud that hope wasn't lost. That just because they didn't find him at intermission didn't mean he wasn't here. Didn't mean they wouldn't find him at the end of the symphony.

The lights over the audience dimmed and Castle furrowed his brow. A long line of people in pearly white gowns was making a procession across the stage. A choir. He watched as they filled in behind the instruments on stage, creating a layered arc around the musicians. Things were getting quiet in the audience and the lights dimmed to near darkness.

Where was she?

His heart began to race and he pulled out his phone and shot off a text.

_Where are you?_

His phone was on silent, but he didn't need to hear the phone to know when a new message came in. He was staring at the screen and tapping the center button every time it had the audacity to fall into sleep mode. He didn't receive a response for two minutes. He'd watched the number change on the cell clock with his own eyes. Two minutes.

The audience applauded loudly and all at once there was a flurry of activity on stage. The first dramatic notes of "Storm Clouds Cantata" sailed through the air and even if Castle hadn't read the program for the night's show, he would have recognized the song immediately. He had to have seen that damn Hitchcock film a million times.

But tonight there was no excitement in hearing the symphony live. There was only the feeling of dread seeping through his system.

Finally his phone lit up in the clutch of his hand and a flood of relief replaced the panic. She was probably just being held back by an usher refusing to disrupt the show for a latecomer. He opened the text and almost threw up.

_Come and find me._

That was not Kate.

That was _not_ Kate.

His hands began to sweat and shake and he thought perhaps the audience would yell at him for screaming in the middle of the show, but no—the screaming was only in his head. The anguished cry of a man who had _known_ this would happen and let this ridiculous plan proceed anyway was all in his mind. It drowned out the sounds of the strings on stage that seemed to be screaming in their own way.

He stood and immediately began the awkward shimmy over the people in his row, making his way to the aisle. _Why were they all in his way? _He resisted the urge to simply clamber over their laps and scramble for the nearest exit.

Finally in the clear, he put his hand in his jacket and let his palm fill with the butt of the gun at his side. Sprinting to the exit, he nearly mowed over an usher, not bothering with an apology as he burst through the doors into the empty hall.

_Come and find me. Come and find me. Come and find me._

_Where? Where the hell would she—they be?_

The plurality made his stomach roll.

He pulled out the gun and checked that all six rounds were in place. They were. Just as he knew they would be. His hands shook and he wiped his forehead with his sleeve. Everything was hot. He was burning. This must be hell. Shedding the jacket entirely and leaving it on the floor of the lobby he headed straight for the staircase where he had last seen her.

Her green dress flowing up the stairs after her. The quick tap of her feet as they ascended. A swish of blonde before she rounded the corner and was gone from his sight. That was the last image he had of her and he felt bile rise from the pit of his stomach as he realized he hadn't even said goodbye.

He breathed in and out through his nose, forcing the oxygen into his system. His body was no longer breathing without conscious permission. It was like it _knew_ that there was no reason for air if there was no more Kate Beckett.

He had to find her. He had to get her back and put one magnum round right between Tyson's eyes. He'd killed for Kate before. He would have been disturbed at his willingness to kill again if he had given a shit about things like his own mental health. He didn't. Not now. He would gladly and willingly and almost joyously shoot Jerry Tyson if he had the chance. That monster had taken his Alexis. He'd taken her away from him, hidden her for months in god knows what kind of conditions, and now...? Now he had taken the only other light in his life. He'd snatched away the one other thing that Castle loved to the very core of his soul. He had to get them back. He had to. If he didn't, his soul and his heart and his existence would never be full again.

_Find them._

Retrace her steps. She'd said she was going to check the balconies. Somewhere where he'd have had a view of them. Castle started up the stairs that he had seen Beckett disappear into. She would have gone to the middle floors. The top floor would have been too far for a good view and the lower balconies were always booked months ahead of time. That left two balconies.

She would have gone to the lower one first. Efficient. But he hadn't been there.

Then she would have gone up one more flight. He could almost see the way she would have opened the door, clearing the terrace like the expert she was. Tyson would have never gotten the jump on her. She was too good.

He hadn't been on the balconies. If he had been on the balconies, Beckett would have caught him. There would have been a struggle. Someone would have seen.

No.

Tyson must have snagged her somewhere in between. A hallway. The staircase.

Castle paused in his thoughts to slow at the turn of the staircase. He could have grabbed her as she rounded the corner here. He cleared the stairs as he'd seen Beckett do so many times on the job, crouching low to the wall and peeking around before raising his gun and twisting to the next flight of stairs.

Clear.

No Tyson. No Kate.

He could hear the music from the grand theatre perforating the walls, haunting the hallway with the howls of the ghostly choir. His mind raced. Kate.

He had to be smart for Kate. He couldn't let the trap catch him.

He'd let Beckett use herself as bait for Tyson and now that fucking psychopath had taken her from him and turned her into his own bait. He was baiting Castle like a starving trout.

"_Come and find me."_

It was a taunt. A threat. Bait. Gloat. Trap. Nightmare.

Castle couldn't fall for it. He had to think ahead. He had to avoid the worst.

He pulled out his phone and pressed the buttons he needed.

"Hello?" a groggy voice answered from the other line.

"Lanie! Lanie, he's got Kate. Tyson's got Kate."

"Oh my god."

"You have to tell the boys. I don't have their goddamn numbers in this phone. You have to tell the boys. I'm calling the Portland police, but you have to tell the boys."

He heard her through the phone, but she wasn't speaking to him. "Javi. Baby, wake up. Tyson's got Kate."

Her voice became louder and Castle could tell it was once again directed at him. "Esposito is on his way to the precinct. He'll get help. I swear to god, Castle, if you two idiots have—"

"—yeah. I know, Lanie. I'm going to find her. We were at the symphony. She went missing at intermission."

"Okay. I'll make sure they know."

"She was wearing a green dress. And a blonde wig."

"Oh my god, you tried to bait him?"

"Lanie, I _know_, okay. I have to go."

"Castle, don't be stupid."

He hung up. He had no plans on being stupid, but he couldn't promise anything.

He called the Portland police, staying in a corner of the stairwell so that he was covered at his back. He didn't tell them what was going on. That would have taken too much time and the police had procedures. He told them there was a crazy looking man running around with a gun. _That would get them here quickly. They'd bring their big guns for a potential mass killing. _It technically wasn't even a lie. Castle looked crazy enough and the revolver clutched tightly in his hand definitely qualified as firepower.

Wiping his brow for what must have been the hundredth time, he continued up the stairs, clearing each level as he went.

He didn't want to fall into the trap. He didn't want to be the trout. But Tyson had some pretty damn irresistible bait. He'd notified the boys. He'd called the police. Help was on it's way, but in the meantime he couldn't quite get the image of Kate with an unforgiving red slash across her throat from Tyson's rope out of his head.

Not breathing.

Eyes dead.

He couldn't just wait. He couldn't.

He'd keep looking. The police would be here any minute and Tyson wouldn't have time for an escape.

He made it all the way to the top floor and there was no sign of Tyson. On the way down, he checked every door he could get his hands on. Most were locked and he pressed his ear to the wood just to make sure he couldn't hear suspicious sounds coming from any of them.

He assumed most of them were janitor's closets. Storage. The few that opened were clearly marked as bathrooms but there was never anyone inside other than a startled old lady once.

By the time he reached the ground floor again, his mind had worked itself into a jumpy haze of panic. He couldn't find her. It should have been easier. It should have been obvious. Tyson_ wanted _him to find her. Why was he making this so hard?

The screaming of the strings and the choir and Castle's mind were soon joined by another familiar scream. Sirens. The police were here.

Castle holstered his gun, but without his jacket, it was in plain sight.

_Great. Fucking perfect._

The police were going to mistake him for the gunman and he'd get arrested and Kate would die. Strangled in some dark room of this godforsaken building.

So he ran.

He ran across the old Hollywood carpeting. He ran past confused ushers. He ran until he hit a dead end and then he turned to a door and rattled the locked knob. He pulled. He shook. He damn near yanked it off. Finally, he backed up a few paces and kicked as hard as he could against the steady portal. He heard the frame crack, but it didn't open all the way.

He aimed for the same spot and kicked again, watching splinters fly. The door remained closed. Taking a running start this time he plowed his entire body into it. His shoulder jarred and his stomach dropped as the door gave way, swinging open with a bang.

The room was relatively small and dark and full of nothing of importance. No Kate. No Tyson. He let the light from the hall spill in momentarily as he took in the surroundings. Stacks and stacks of chairs, a few podiums, microphones, and a forest of stands for roping off areas and designating the path for a line.

He shut the door behind him and used his cell as a light to check that the door wasn't too marred. It didn't look like it from this angle. It would make a good hiding spot until the police left or until he could think of a better plan. Right now he just needed to not get caught by the police for running around with a gun.

He sat heavily in a chair and unbuttoned the top three buttons of his shirt. It was too hot. He rolled the sleeves to his elbows and then leaned forward, head in his hands and mind racing.

_This was getting out of control._

_No._

_It had never been in their control in the first place. _

He called Lanie and didn't even wait for her greeting before he started to speak.

"Lanie. Lanie, the cops are here and I'm hiding in some closet. Tell me that the boys have contacted the police too. Tell me they know who I am and I don't need to hide."

"Why are you hiding?"

"The gun. I have a gun."

She was silent for a second and Castle's knee began to jiggle up and down.

"Stay in the closet, Castle. I'll check and see what the police do or do not know. I swear as soon as you get back I'm going to sit you and that woman down and make for god damn sure that you never ever do something this stupid again."

"Okay. Yeah. Permission granted. Now call the boys and call me back."

He hung up the phone, sitting in the silent room that still seemed to echo with Lanie's threat. He deserved it. They deserved it. They were stupid and reckless and it was going to get them killed. It may have already gotten her killed.

His throat closed up and he felt like he was trying to breathe through a stir straw. She had to be alive. He couldn't believe anything else. She had to be warm and alive, her face full of justified rage as she planned how to escape Tyson's clutches. That was the only Beckett he allowed himself to picture. Jaw jutting, eyes flaming, fists clenching, heart beating Beckett.

His mouth filled with the phantom taste of her and he was too afraid to swallow and lose the flavor. Just a day ago he'd held her in his hands, pressed her against the wall, and felt her heart beat against his own. He'd had her lips on his. He'd had his tongue on hers. She'd had her legs wrapped around him and while he was endlessly awed that it had finally happened and they'd finally kissed, he was equally heartbroken.

Because it might have been their last.

* * *

><p><em>AN: I tried to write this as quickly as physically possible. To just crank things out in an almost stream of consciousness because I wanted Castle's thoughts and actions to seem panicked and unfiltered and real. If I have failed, I'm sorry. _

_Yes. Castle and Beckett are both idiots. I'm well aware. But I will defend my choices to the end. I honestly think that when people are as desperate as they are, mistakes like these are made. That's the whole reason you are never allowed to the work cases of people you know. But those two would never ever NOT work this case. And so this is the result._


	29. Chapter 29

_Previously on Apples & Cherries…Kate got snatched and Rick is frantically trying to figure out what to do. We left him hiding in a closet._

* * *

><p><span>Chapter Twenty-Nine:<span>

Rick sat in complete and utter darkness, letting it paint his skin with impenetrable ink. The light from the hallway had ceased to shine from under the door about thirty minutes ago. They were systematically shutting the theatre down for the night. Lights that weren't necessary for the custodial staff on duty were shut off to save money.

It had been hours since Lanie had called him back, assuring him that the police knew who he was and that he had a registered gun on him. It had been hours since he had subsequently left the safety of the closet and ventured to the inevitable and overdue conversation with the Portland Police Department. Hours since he'd identified himself as the caller. Hours since they'd questioned him. Hours since he'd given up details of their night, their week, their month. Hours since he'd been told they'd contact him if anything were found. Hours since he'd begged them to let him help. Hours since they'd refused and told him to leave.

They had his statement. They wanted nothing more from him. They wanted him out of the way so they could do their jobs. He'd known this would happen; it's why he'd been so reluctant to call them in the first place. They would never let him be involved.

He breathed in the black. He let it fill his lungs with its inescapable presence and diffuse through his bloodstream like the thick smoke of a cigarette, just as choking and just as calming. His pupils were expanded to nearly the size of his irises, their own blackness longing to join that of the air around him.

He'd gone back to his little closet after the police dismissed him. He would let them do their work. He wouldn't get in the way. He would let them clear the theatre, but he couldn't bring himself to actually leave the place. If he went back to the loft he'd be willingly releasing the last strand of the rope that tied him to her. They'd traced her phone, but it merely showed that it was still in the building: nothing more specific and nothing to prove she was _with_ the phone.

He waited in his closet as they scoured the place. A few officers had burst in on him about an hour ago, but after recognizing him they'd left to search elsewhere. No luck so far. No calls had come in. Nothing to indicate they'd found her. So he'd waited in the closet for them to leave.

His phone buzzed in his hand.

Fumbling to flip it open, he dropped it entirely and hit his elbow on a podium trying to retrieve it. Nearly blinding himself with the light that sprang from the phone, he blinked until the words on the screen processed in his brain.

_That was a bad idea calling the cops. I had to find a way to keep her quiet, Rick. Very, very, very quiet._

This time his stomach didn't roll. His face didn't blanche. His eyes didn't tear. The hours in the darkness had allowed his mind to imagine every horrific scenario. It seemed to him to only be yet another scene playing in his head. No more or less real. Tyson strangling the life out of Kate to silence her? Nothing new to his mind's eye.

He stood and exited the closet into the still dark, but far more illuminated hallway. Making his way through the passage and back towards the lobby. Before he could reach it, his phone buzzed again. Prepared for the worst, he opened the text.

_You're taking too long and I have things to do, people to kill. Don't make me start without you._

Castle closed the phone and shoved it down into his pocket, withdrawing the revolver from its holster on the way back up. He felt it press into his palm and he forced lungful after lungful of air into his chest. He would not fail Alexis. He would not fail Kate.

They were not in the obvious places; the police would have found them. They were not on the roof, in the basement, storage closets, balconies, dressing rooms, rafters, backstage, or any other conceivable place. Where would they be? Where would the cops fail to check?

He opened one of the doors to the grand theatre. It was so empty without the seats full of murmuring people and musicians tuning their instruments. It was a wonder that the echoes of the unearthly choir weren't still resounding and rebounding off the walls. It was silent. He took a few steps forward into the room and even the hushed sound of his feet on the worn red carpeting seemed loud in the otherwise utter absence of noise.

Picking a seat at random, somewhere towards the middle of the sea of chairs, he rested his heavy bones. The hand that held the gun rested between his legs, limp with its uselessness. He ran a palm over his clean-shaven face and leaned back in the chair.

_Come and find me. Keep her very quiet. Start without you. Find me. People to kill. Too long. Bad idea. Very, very, very quiet. _

Tyson's texts ran loops through his mind, searching for purchase, something to cling to.

He'd been in theatres many times before. He'd practically grown up in theatres around the country. When his mother wasn't acting for the big or silver screens, she was on stage, in her element, basking in the wide-eyed appreciation of an audience and absorbing every snap of their applause.

There were so many places a person could hide in a theatre—especially one of this size. Castle's leg began to jiggle again as he began to grow impatient with his own impotence. He had to stop being so inadequate. He had to put his wealth of knowledge to use. He'd spent his boyhood exploring theatres just like this one. He'd known every nook and cranny of half the major theatres in this country. This had once been his playground.

He could turn the tables on Tyson. He could regain footing. This was his territory. He had the home court advantage. All he had to do was figure out which fucking little hidey-hole Tyson was keeping her.

_Under the stage. Too obvious. The police had checked it._

_The rafters. No. Too hard to haul her body up there. Too hard to have an advantage up there._

His mind seemed to stutter. His nose itched. There was something there. Something he was close to. His nose was _itching_. It was a sign. His leg jiggled almost maniacally now. _Under the stage. Above the stage. Under the stage. Above the stage._

And then he knew.

He _knew _where they had to be.

He sprang from his seat and sprinted to the front towards the stage. Taking the stairs at the side two at a time, he felt his feet almost slip out from under him on the slick stage floor.

_Enter stage left. Hit your mark. Watch the ghost rise. _

It happened in every other play he'd ever seen. Watch the ghost rise. Watch the phantom appear. Watch as the fog clears and the sparks fly and the audience gasps.

They all had them. All the stages had them. Sometimes they had multiples. Little, tiny lifts. Like elongated dumbwaiters. So small. So negligible. They could be hung and pulled and lifted anywhere between the rafters and the basement. He'd loved to sit in the tiny enclosed space as a kid. The best of all the hiding places.

That's where Kate had to be. That's where Tyson had her. It was the only place the police wouldn't have checked. The things were built to be hidden.

His feet had carried him backstage and his eyes skimmed the familiar system of ropes and pulleys until he found what he was looking for. Following the cables with his eyes, he saw the control panel for the lift. Walking over to it, he breathed deeply and then threw the switch to bring it up to the stage level. Jogging out to the stage, he stood directly in front of the trap door in the floor. He raised his gun and let his finger tap gently against the double-action trigger, testing its feel. He was ready.

The lift was slow, but quiet. The floor slid open as it made its approach and he watched as the ceiling of the elevator made itself level with the stage and then continued in its progress upward.

Usually these lifts didn't have doors; it was easier for the actors to make their entrance that way. The one that stood before him, however, had a crude, untreated pinewood paneling Something that hinted it's last use had not been for an actor's entrance, but for the transportation of set pieces up and down. Or holding a detective hostage.

He approached the now still lift with extreme caution. Gun raised. Finger on trigger. Eyes unblinking. Reaching out with one hand he looped his finger through the sawed-out hole in the panel and pulled, heart in his throat and gun at his front.

He pulled hard enough so that the cheap hinges swung open on their own and he took a step backwards quickly, prepared to shoot. He was greeted with an empty lift and an overwhelming sense of disappointment.

When the air swooped into the compartment to relieve the pressure difference, it lifted and fluttered a program within its walls like a trapped bird.

He stepped forward and picked up the paper, immediately noticing the violent writing that was slashed across it in black marker.

_Hop on in, Rick. You've got one minute or she dies._

* * *

><p><em>AN: Holy tuna on rye! Have you guys SEEN the review count for this? What. Is. Air._

_I'm trying really, really hard to be as frequent with updates as possible. This is the first time I've ever written against a clock and so far I'm not a fan. Love you guys. Hate this chapter. Congratulations to those who picked up on the Josh Ritter 'Come and Find Me' reference of last chapter._

_Reviews will feed my soul. _


	30. Chapter 30

_Previously in Apples & Cherries…Castle called up the teeny lift. It was empty, but had a note that said _"Hop on in, Rick. You've got one minute or she dies." GASP!

* * *

><p><span>Thirty:<span>

One minute.

One minute from when? From when lift stopped? From when it started to move? From when he wrote the note?

Entering the elevator would play right into Tyson's hands. He'd lose the element of surprise. He'd be predictable. He'd be reeled in. But one minute. Just one. Probably much less now.

Tyson didn't need Kate. Kate was expendable. He still had Alexis to hold hostage. Kate could be used to make a point. Kate could be killed.

The thought drove his feet into the elevator. He still had his gun. He'd be okay. He swung the pine door shut and was masked in darkness. The lift didn't move. Should he bang on the floor? Get back out?

He only had about twenty seconds left on the clock.

He was just about ready to burst through the pine door again to go press the button himself and try and race back into the lift in time, when he felt the mechanical lurch of the gears. It was moving.

Sinking.

Silently delving into the depths of the theatre, it moved slowly. As if each inch gained was merely the result of reluctant pulleys, designed to wear on his nerves until they simply eroded away. He doubted he had even sunk completely from the stage yet. Resisting the urge to shout out in frustration, he licked his lips, wiped his brow, and then raised his gun, training it on the door in front of him.

The silent whirr of well-oiled cables sliding through the rim filled his ears. He listened intently to the air around him for sounds of Kate or Tyson, but heard nothing but the slither of the ropes.

The lift was dark. He could see enough, but there was no way to check his progression downwards. It felt like six feet, then like 20,000 leagues, and then like the nine levels of the Inferno.

Sinking. Sinking.

Stopping.

There was no screeching halt, nor bounce of the lift. It simply stopped moving.

Castle's heart raced as he processed what was about to happen. This was it. This was the confrontation. This was page 250 in a 300-page book. The action scene. Tyson would burst through the pine door. They'd struggle. Kate would be tied up in a corner, unharmed. Castle would manage to knock Tyson backwards and then he'd take the money shot. Straight through the head. Quick. Final. An end to this ghastly story.

But the pine door remained closed.

Unmoving.

Castle slid his foot forward and nudged at the door. Its cheap hinges resisted the force. He pushed harder and it began to squeak open. He didn't remember it squeaking on the stage above. _Had it squeaked then, too?_

The sound pierced through the air, an official herald of his arrival. The door was wide open now, but Castle remained in the cab, unsure of what to do next. Should he stay here and try to bottleneck Tyson's approach? In here, he could only come at him from one source and Castle's gun would quickly take care of that.

But there was no movement. No sign of Tyson. He couldn't wait in here forever. Tyson knew better than to come at Castle from the most predictable angle available. They'd be stalemated if Rick remained in the lift.

So he stepped out, gun raised and thighs flexed for action. Still nothing. Thank god the lift had been so dark; his eyes were already adjusted to the lack of light and he could see relatively well. His phone vibrated.

_Kate is breathless with anticipation for your arrival. Come and find me._

Castle swallowed hard and tightened his hold on the gun as if the extra force would somehow be able to push away another onslaught of images of Kate strangled on the cold concrete floor of this lonely room. She couldn't be dead. He'd have felt it. He'd have felt the shift in the universe. Surely all the colors would have been sapped out of the air. He'd already been living in a world devoid of sunshine since Alexis had been taken. He couldn't bear to lose the colors too.

He took in his surroundings. Directly in front of him was a massive clown head. Its mouth was the door and it seemed to laugh at his suffering with grotesque glee. Castle made a mental note to never see whatever play that particular set piece was a part of. Walking towards the clown, he checked in its monstrous mouth for Tyson. Castle had the thought that this was perhaps the worst game of hide and seek he'd ever played. _Nope no psychopath here!_

Walking along the wall, he passed by an endless collection of set pieces that had been stored under the stage. Façades of buildings, a veritable forest of silk trees, an astounding number of light fixtures, chairs, couches, beds, and what looked to be a giant chess set. Everything looked hauntingly abandoned and forgotten. Eclectic. Carelessly mixed. A barber's chair sat in the shadows of a straw hut. A skyline of houses from different centuries at varying levels of disuse bleakened the back wall. None of it belonged together, and yet there was a sort of camaraderie in their loneliness.

In this land of left-behind sets and misfit props, he still could not see the one thing every fiber of his being searched for, vibrated for. Not behind the rolled up backdrops. Not inside the straw hut. Nowhere above him. His eyes were straining against the dark, picking up details that would normally have passed by. Every stuffed mannequin and painted doll caused his nerves to flare up and his trigger finger to twitch.

And then he saw it: the figure of a man through the curtained window of a fold-open house. It was a silhouette that would otherwise have been basically invisible if Castle hadn't been approaching at the exact right angle. His heart hammered in his chest. Tyson. He had him. Raising the gun, he trained it on the silhouette ready to pull.

He couldn't get the shot he needed. He'd have to be dead on, and even then he probably wouldn't hit any of the vitals that his vengeance craved.

Looking around, he assessed his approach. If he snuck around back, he'd be obvious and Tyson would spot him immediately before he'd even be able to get a shot off. He'd have to keep with the forward approach. Just get closer to the window. He'd be able to shoot through the curtain and Tyson wouldn't see him.

Taking each step forward with silence not expected from a man his size, he approached as slowly as he could.

Surely Tyson could hear the muffled step of his shoes.

His pounding heart.

His breath.

That bead of sweat loudly sliding down his temple.

Surely.

But Tyson didn't move. He simply stood by the window in profile, probably waiting for Castle to check that particular house so he could spring his trap.

He was feet away now. He raised the gun one final time.

He had the shot. Should he say something? Wasn't the good guy supposed to give warning? _Fuck it._

He pulled the trigger half-way back. One more flex of his finger and the double action revolver would fire one bullet straight into the head of Jerry Tyson. He hesitated for a brief moment, but the flashing image of his beautiful daughter flew through his mind and he pulled.

The resulting bang was deafening.

The glass window shattered and sprayed the ground with sharp, glittering daggers. His ears hurt from the sound and his wrists were jarred from the kickback. He took one step forward, towards the shattered window and ripped curtain and felt a piece of glass crunch beneath his foot.

Then he heard the crunch that his foot did _not_ make.

He whipped his head toward the sound and had just enough time to react to the arm and body reaching out towards him, rag in hand.

His body dropped to the floor and he rolled away, feeling the glass beneath him pierce painfully into his back and forearms. He heard a wild yell from above him and looked up into the contorted face of Jerry Tyson. Only a second passed before Tyson was flying through the air to land on top of him with a painful thud. The rag was being forced towards his face but Castle's hand had a fierce grip on Tyson's forearm, resisting.

Castle's thoughts were narrowed to one thing.

_Survive._

He was stronger than Tyson. His body was winning the war. Just one more moment and he'd be able to roll them over and punch the ever-loving fuck out of Tyson. It would be more cathartic than a bullet, anyway. Tyson could feel his muscles failing and instead of continuing the struggle, he rolled_ himself_ off Castle.

Fighting to regain the contact, Castle surged to the side fists clenched and ready to kill. It was primal. The anger that boiled inside him felt like instinct. Kill or be killed. He flew towards the man who had made his life a living hell and reached for his neck. Strangulation would be poetic. Castle loved poetry.

As he lurched towards Tyson, he saw a glint in the corner of his eye followed by the blur of Tyson's arm as it swept through the air in front of him slicing a long arc through the dark air. Castle felt the sting immediately and it was enough to get him to back away from Tyson.

His shirt had been sliced open and a relatively shallow cut was now bleeding quite freely. It ran all the way from his shoulder, down across his chest, and to his side. A vicious red slash. It didn't hurt bad enough to stop. It only made him angrier. The pain fed the rage. He looked up and saw a gleaming shard of glass clutched in Tyson's hand, stained with his blood.

He looked around for the revolver. _Why did people always drop their guns in a skirmish?_ It would have been much simpler if he could just lay a few rounds in Tyson's chest right now as they sat breathing and staring at each other in this morbid mosaic of shattered glass and blood.

Tyson's lips curved into a smile. Predatory. Manic.

He leaned backward a few inches and the smile grew, his dark eyes never leaving Castle. When he drew forward, it was with a gun in his hands.

"A revolver, huh? I never did like guns. Or blood. Sorry about your chest, there. Accident. You know how these things happen."

Castle was silent.

"You do know this means you've lost, right? I've got the gun. I've got the girls. I've got the power. Tell me: how badly do you want to kill me now?"

Castle was still silent, but his eyes spoke his answer for him.

"Well. Follow me. I've got plans for you. Come on, get up."

He motioned with the revolver for Castle to rise, but he remained seated, searching with his fingers for a suitable shard of glass of his own. Anything. Anything to fight back with.

"Stop it, Rick. We don't have time. Get up or I'm killing one of them."

Castle stood, his teeth clenched so hard they were probably fusing together. He walked in front of Tyson who had the gun honed in on his back. He looked at every single prop they passed for a weapon. Nothing.

"Turn here," Tyson directed. They were standing in front of the house that Castle had originally seen Tyson in—except it hadn't been Tyson. Panic flooded him as he imagined whom he might have shot instead. _A captured janitor? A guest? Kate?_

His vision swirled at the thought.

"Keep moving."

Castle pushed open the door to the set house and entered. It was completely open on the other side, just as he'd expected from a set piece. But three walls and a wood floor were there. So was a single bed.

A single bed with the single most beautiful thing he'd ever seen on it.

"Kate!" he yelled and ran to her side, forgetting Tyson and the gun.

He propped his knee on the bed and passed his hands over her face and arms and hair. _She was alive. She was alive._ He could see the rise and fall of her chest. There were no rope marks on her throat. Nothing. She seemed perfectly unharmed. Merely sleeping.

He ran his fingers over her cheek and reveled in the warmth he felt beneath her skin.

"Stop crying. She's alive."

He hadn't realized that tears were falling down his cheeks. He didn't even care. His relief had simply found a way to exit his body. _She was _alive. He couldn't care less if he cried.

He spoke before realizing he was speaking.

"What's wrong with her?"

"She's drugged, obviously. Same stuff from the rag here." He threw the dirty towel at Castle and it landed on his lap. "Chloroform and a few other chemicals. A special cocktail I've learned along the way. It makes things easier sometimes. Keeps them sleeping for longer."

"Doesn't that defeat the purpose? Don't you kill to feel the struggle? Feel the life drain out of them?"

Tyson's eyes flashed with something terrifying. "Stop it!" he spat. "You think you know me, but you _DON'T!_ You. Don't. You can't solve everything, Castle! You can't figure every little puzzle out." His breathing was ragged and his face had turned red.

It seemed Castle had found a button. _To push or not to push?_

"Get up." Tyson ordered, his face still red, but his eyes a little more lifeless.

Castle took his time in following the order. The only motivation that kept him under Tyson's command was the gun now pointed at Kate.

"Go stand over there by my little stunt double."

In the moments that had followed his relief over seeing Kate, he had completely forgotten about the man in the window he had shot. Looking at where Tyson was indicating, he saw the body of a waxy mannequin whose head had been decimated by a bullet.

_Thank god. That was at least one tiny bit of silver lining in this black hole of a situation._

Castle moved to stand by the disfigured mannequin, his body tense. Ready and waiting for any opening. Tyson had basically switched places with him and was now standing on the bed behind Kate. He pressed the shard of glass to her neck and retrained the gun on Castle.

"Do your little detective here a favor and breathe deeply into that rag."

Castle squeezed the dishtowel he held in his fist. _No. Fucking. Way_.

Tyson released a put upon sigh. "Come on, now. Let's not go through the whole cliché 'No', 'Yes', 'No', 'I'll slit her throat and let her bleed out in front of you if you don't' thing, okay? Fast-forward and just do it."

Castle let his fingers flex against the rag.

"You'll kill her anyway."

"Oh, well if that's how you feel about it, I guess I could just take care of it now." He pressed in with the glass and a wet, red line pooled out and gathered at the junction of her clavicles.

"No!" Castle stepped forward reflexively. Tyson waved the gun.

"Nuh-uh-uh. Stay over there, Rick. Press the fucking rag to your mouth and breathe deeply, or I cut deeper."

Castle took one last look at Kate's face. One last look at the blood still pooling slowly on her throat. He'd lost. He'd failed. He had no idea what to do other than obey the monster before him. To let her live—if only for a few more hours or days or whatever Tyson had in store.

He raised the rag slowly to his mouth, never letting his eyes leave the perfect woman on the bed in front of him. He'd breathe poison to let her breathe air.

And so he did.

* * *

><p><em>AN: Hope it was worth the wait. _

_Review, please. I especially like it when people tell me their favorite parts or lines. Helps me incorporate more of that so my writing is oriented towards what the reader's like. If you don't speak up, I can't please you. Let me please you. Wow, that sounds sexual._


	31. Chapter 31

_Previously in Apples & Cherries…Rick went below the stage to find Tyson. They struggled and Rick's chest got cut by glass. He saw Kate unharmed but unconscious. Rick voluntarily breathed in the knockout rag to ensure Kate could keep living. If only for the moment._

_**Warning:** Dark themes in this chapter. But I wouldn't skip it. It's important. You're in too deep anyway to be skipping things. Who are you kidding._

* * *

><p><span>Thirty-One:<span>

Nausea.

That was the first thing Rick felt when he started to come to. He prepared to heave whatever was in his stomach, but found that his muscles were too tired to put forth the effort. Things were swirly and then they were black.

…

Vertigo.

Was he sitting? Was he standing? Why was he moving? Where was Kate? He felt a strong tug beneath both his arms and realized he was being dragged across a floor. He could hear someone yelling for him but blackness painted his vision and once again sucked him into oblivion.

…

Alexis.

He could hear Alexis. He tried to open his eyes. Put every single ounce of concentration into the simple act of raising his eyelids, but it could not be done. He was being propped in a chair, his body as limp as a puppet and he felt like he had just about the same amount of control.

"Dad! Dad! Dad!"

_Was his phone ringing? _

_No. _

Alexis. That was Alexis. She was near. He tried to open his eyes, but they were just too heavy. He had to open them. He had to see Alexis. He could do it. Just raise on lid. One eye. One peek.

His left eye fluttered for a second and he caught a blurry flash of a concrete floor and his own lap.

Then he felt the ropes.

He was about to be tied. Once he was tied, the game would be over. _Don't get tied. Don't get tied. Don't get tied._ He flexed his forearms. It took a tremendous amount of effort, but he flexed both his forearms until they were as hard as stone. He felt the scratch and burn of the ropes against his skin. He was being tied. He tried to stay conscious. Tried to hold onto the sensations and his mind, but the blackness was drawing him back. Seductive. Impersonal. Blissfully empty.

He managed to last until the ropes were tied before he went out again.

…

"Rick!"

_That was Kate. _

"Dad, please!"

_That was Alexis._

His head lolled on his chest as he struggled to lift it. He had regained a considerable amount of strength, but he still felt his blood had been replaced with cold, liquid lead. He strained his neck and his head finally raised. Opening his eyes, he took in his surroundings, watching as things sharpened into focus.

Alexis was blonde, but her eyes were as blue as ever.

"Hey, baby. Are you okay?"

Alexis let out a pained laugh. It was probably more of an exhalation.

"I'm just great, Dad. You?"

"Peachy keen, my little bean."

He took all of her in. She was way too thin, but not a skeleton. Her hair was blonde, but it seemed clean and well kept. She had no bruises. No blood. No signs of scarring, except on her wrists. He could see angry red marks on them and her ankles through the windings of the yellow ropes that bound her.

"Your wrists."

"They're okay, Dad. He puts antiseptic on them."

That wasn't really a comforting thought.

"Where is he?"

"He'll be back soon. Any minute probably. You weren't out very long, though."

"How long?"

"About five minutes since he dragged you in here."

It had seemed longer. The blackouts must have been shorter than he thought.

"Where's Kate?"

"I'm over here."

He heard her voice and turned his head to the side, craning to see behind him. She was in a corner of the warehouse also tied to a chair. He and Alexis were seated facing each other in the middle.

"You okay?"

"Stop asking stupid questions. None of us are okay."

"Good to hear your voice, too."

"Got any stupid plans?"

"Not at the moment."

"Hey, Dad?" he turned his head back to Alexis so quickly, he got dizzy from the spin.

"Yeah, Pumpkin?"

"I love you."

He smiled at her, but it was a sad smile.

"I love you, too."

She mirrored his own smile back at him.

"Just thought you should know."

"I knew."

"I did too. I knew you'd find me."

"Find you. Get kidnapped and taken to you. Same thing."

Her smile was a little less sad this time and his mind frantically began imprinting the image into his brain. She was alive. Kate was alive. He was alive. This was almost a happy ending.

Except for the fact that they were all currently tied to chairs and subject to the whims of a serial killer.

_But a silver lining is a silver lining, right? Life is one hell of a silver lining._

The door to the warehouse banged open and Tyson entered, looking smug and soulless.

"Hello, prisoners. How are you enjoying your stay so far?"

"It's lovely. Could we get some more towels though? They never give you enough."

Alexis looked halfway stuck between a laugh and a murderous glare. He couldn't see Kate, but he was guessing she was rolling her eyes and trying to loosen her ropes. Tyson just laughed.

"Still haven't broken your spirit, have I? I suppose we'll just have to work on that, won't we?"

Rick's stomach dropped and his faux-cocky grin disappeared. Tyson walked with purpose towards Kate, grabbed her chair and dragged it towards Alexis and Rick. The metal legs screeched painfully across the concrete, echoing screams of protest to such treatment. He winced at the noise but didn't look away. Couldn't look away. She was so beautifully alive and awake and furious. A bit too blonde for his taste, but at the moment her hair could have been blue and he wouldn't have given half a flying fuck. Besides, he could see one tiny tendril of rich, chestnut brown escaping the net of the wig. Making a break for freedom.

Soon, Kate was right next to Alexis and about five feet directly across from him. They stared at each other, trying to communicate with their eyes. Trying to figure out if the other had a plan. Apologizing when they found none.

"Alright, Rick. Time for me to have some fun. I've been waiting weeks and weeks for this moment. I can't believe it's finally here!"

He sounded like a kid at Christmas. Only evil.

"Pick."

Castle's brow furrowed in confusion.

"Pick one, Rick. Surely, the Great Richard Castle can puzzle out what that means."

The Great Richard Castle knew exactly what he meant. He had to choose between Kate and Alexis. Well, that was going to be the easiest and simultaneously most difficult choice of his entire life.

"Are you sure you want me to pick, Tyson? I mean, wouldn't it be more fun just to kill me and let them go to tell tales of your evilness?"

"Stop stalling. Only one person is going to walk out of this alive. I'll let that magnificent brain of yours puzzle out which one."

_Please don't let it be me._

"I'm not stalling."

"Pick, Rick."

Castle looked at Kate to find her…smiling at him? It wasn't really a smile. Just acceptance and forgiveness and understanding rolled up into a slight tilt of her lips.

"You are taking too long. I'd kind of hoped you would. It makes it more fun for me because now? I get to do this. He pulled out a knife. It was small. Tiny, really. A pocketknife with one measly blade.

But that blade put the fear of god in Castle.

"Now you _don't_ get to pick who gets killed. Just which one gets the knife. I'll make a little tally mark riiiight here on her skin for every time they get picked." He sliced his own skin open with the pocketknife on the soft under skin of his upper arm. "Ouch. That hurt more than I thought it would."

Castle was shaking in his chair. It wasn't anger. It was fear.

"Okay. Pick who's first. I have the right to veto."

He swallowed the lump in his throat and made eye contact with her. She knew it was coming, but that didn't make him feel any better.

"Kate."

"Good answer." Tyson reached over and made a tiny one-inch tally on her inner arm. She didn't flinch, or even look away from Castle's eyes. "That's so little, it might not even leave a scar."

He smiled at his handiwork and then turned back to the tortured man in the chair. "Pick again."

Castle took a deep breath. "Kate."

Tyson smiled and leaned forward again to mark Kate's arm.

"I think I see where we are headed, here. I don't know if I'm going to be able to fit them all on her arm. Again, Rick."

He closed his eyes this time, unwilling to meet the look of betrayal that would certainly be on her face.

"Rick, look at me." Her voice was soft and comforting. He looked. "It's okay. I'm glad it's me. Keep picking me."

He did.

He picked her eight times more.

The marks were still light on her arms, like a little bird had simply clung to her skin a little too tightly before taking off in flight. She probably wouldn't even scar and if she did, it would be light. Castle noted the importance of the light cuts. It probably went deeper than Tyson simply wanting to keep things solely_ mentally _torturous. Perhaps Tyson's admission back in the theatre had been truer than its teasing tone. _I never did like guns. Or blood._

Perhaps Tyson was keeping things neat for his own sake. He didn't like blood; it was messy. Hence, the ropes.

Once again, Castle picked Kate.

Tyson sighed, "Okay. Now I'm bored. Veto!"

He moved over to Alexis, who'd had her eyes closed for the entire exchange of _Pick_s followed by _Kate_s. She was unwilling to look into the eyes of her father as he was forced to choose her over Kate. It was too much.

Her eyes opened and she stared Tyson down.

"Good. I was getting bored, too."

Tyson smiled. "Man, I am going to miss that spunk of yours. It's really quite entertaining for me."

He made the tiny cut in her arm. She didn't flinch.

"Okay, Rick. Pick again."

Castle's face had gone white and he looked sick. He was staring at the mark on Alexis' arm and shaking.

"No."

"No?"

"No. I don't want to pick anymore."

Tyson flicked the blade of the pocketknife down.

"Okay. Let me go get my ropes. Then you get to pick one last time."

Castle's face was grim but determined. He wouldn't let Tyson play anymore. He shouldn't have let him play to begin with. He watched him walk slowly through the doors, as if he knew that taking his time on this particular errand would be the worst of all the torture he'd been inflicting.

The door swung shut behind him and it echoed through the room, punching through the silence.

"It didn't even hurt, Rick. I promise. Look at me." He looked at Kate with guilt in his eyes. "See?"

She was smiling at him, so completely reassuring that he was far from reassured.

"Yeah."

"I'm fine. I promise."

He pinched his lips together to keep the flood of apologies and _No you're not_s from spilling forth. They'd be useless anyway.

"I want you to pick me."

His eyes shot back to hers. _No._

"Kate—"

"No really. It'll be over really quickly. Just close your eyes and it'll be over. You and Alexis can go home—"

"Kate, I can't—"

"Yes you can. And you will."

"Kate…" This time it was Alexis' hesitant voice that spoke. "Kate, I don't think he should choose at all. Don't make him choose. He won't get over it."

There was a silence between the three: a mutual acceptance of the truth in Alexis' words.

"I'm not going to pick," he surprised the two in front of him. His face was glowing in the light of something remembered from a hazy, drugged memory. "I'm going to escape."

"How?" came their reply in unison.

He smiled, a little deviously and a lot proud.

"I flexed my forearms."

He was met with two very confused stares.

"I flexed my forearms when he tied me. So they're loose. The ropes are loose. I just have to…wiggle I think." Even as he spoke, the author began to wiggle in his bindings. At first it seemed absolutely hopeless—or at least it looked that way from Alexis and Kate's perspective. But he could feel himself coming out of them. Slowly. Probably too slowly.

He broke into a sweat as he furiously rotated his wrists, alternating between pulling them and twisting them. It worked best when it was both at the same time, like loosening the stubborn cork in a wine bottle. He was almost there.

"Alexis," he heard Kate say. "Can you push my chair closer to your dad with your knee?"

Alexis nodded and immediately spread her legs as wide as she could to latch one behind the arm of Kate's chair. Kate put as much weight as she could on the tips of her toes so that the chair was made lighter as Alexis flexed her legs together again, sending Kate's chair forward almost a foot. Alexis' chair was still bolted to the floor and it did not move with her effort.

Kate beamed.

"Perfect."

Then she used her toes to scoot her chair closer, inch by inch, across the four feet that separated them. It was slow progress. Probably too slow.

But Tyson hadn't reentered. He hadn't come back with his ropes yet to ruin their last ditch pitch for freedom. She was almost knee to knee now with Castle, her calves burning furiously with the journey.

He was almost free. His hair was shaking on his forehead with each violent tug at his wrists. He got his right hand free before his left and immediately brought it over to the other side to pull at the ropes. The knots were too tight and his extra hand wasn't helping.

"Castle, stop. Put your hand behind me. I've got a knife strapped to my lower back."

His face lit up like the New York skyline.

His hand eagerly reached out to her and felt along the green satin at her sides wrapping around to find the skin of her back.

"I swear, Castle, if you use this opportunity to cop a feel? I will leave you tied to that chair."

He smiled and let his hand plunge into the back of her dress, feeling for the knife. Her skin was slick with sweat from her laborious effort to get to him. They were so close, they were breathing each other's air. Respiration rates were increased with excitement and fueled by hope.

His fingers closed around the knife and he pulled it out of her dress, bringing it between them, but not backing away.

"My, my what do we have here, Detective? Keeping a little something up your sleeve? Or should I say…in your—"

"Go ahead and finish that sentence, Castle, but could you cut me loose while you do it."

Extending the stiletto, he reached forward yet again and slipped it under her ropes.

"You smell like cherries." He grinned at her narrowed eyes. "And a liiiiittle like chloroform."

"Then perhaps it's best you stop inhaling me."

"Dad, would you just cut her ropes. He's gonna be back any second."

Castle's eyes flicked to his worried daughter in apology. She was positively vibrating with the fear they wouldn't finish in time. Fear that they would come this close only to lose. "Sorry, kid."

He finished with one of her wrists and she quickly took the knife from him to finish her other and then both her ankles. Standing, she smiled victoriously. Dangerously.

_Now it's fucking _on_, Tyson._ Castle knew the fire in Beckett's eyes. He'd seen it on the face of a silverback on the discovery channel once, right before the gorilla completely destroyed a leopard.

Kate finished cutting his other wrist before they heard footsteps approaching outside the door.

She managed to run to Alexis and slice one of her wrist bindings open before she sprinted to the door, desperate for an advantage this time. Pressing her body against the wall by the doorframe, she sliced through her dress at the thigh, wrapping the knife quickly around her and ripping the lower half of her dress off in one rough tug. She'd need the freedom for what was to come. Holding the knife in one hand, she motioned for the two other occupants of the room to momentarily cease their struggles against their remaining bindings.

It was time to rain some hell.

* * *

><p><em>AN: I did a little hands-on research on my own for this chapter. Á la Richard Castle. Had my mom tie me to a chair to see if I could escape. I couldn't. Had her tie me again while my arms were flexed, and I was able to wriggle out (and my forearms aren't nearly as muscular as Rick's. If he flexed, he'd create WAY more wiggle room)._

_I tried to balance some of the horrible dark themes of this chapter (torture, acceptance of one's own death, repeated use of "fuck" and it's various forms) with a bit of humor and a hint of Caskett._

_Who's excited for the raining hell? And a Beckett-centered chapter? Reviewwwww!_


	32. Chapter 32

_Previously in Apples & Cherries…Rick got ragged and dragged. They all woke up together in a warehouse and Rick was forced to pick Kate over and over again for torture. Then he escaped his bindings and now Kate is about to rain hell._

**Warning**: More violence.

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><p><span>Chapter Thirty-Two:<span>

The warehouse was silent for the briefest of moments between the cessation of Tyson's footsteps and the inevitable twisting of the knob. Kate's heartbeat was surprisingly steady; _this _was something she knew. Kicking ass was familiar ground. The heavy door swung open toward her and though her vision was now blocked by it, she counted the milliseconds down in her head to the exact right moment.

Throwing her shoulder into the door with incredible force, she sent it barreling back in the other direction, slamming it into Tyson's head. The smack cracked through the room as Tyson's skull bore the full impact. If she was lucky, he'd be unconscious and her work would already be done.

Pulling the door back open with a fierce yank of her arm, she rounded it with her knife raised. Tyson was clutching his face and staggering backward.

"Ah! Fuck! What the fuck!" Blood was dripping through each of the eight gaps in his fingers. Venous rivers of crimson made their ways down his forearms. She'd broken his nose. Badly.

Not giving him any chance to recover whatsoever, she charged forward and pushed down on his back, slamming her knee straight to his gut, knocking the wind out of him with considerable force. She drew back slightly, but still supported his dead weight with her shoulder. She jammed a kick to the outside of his knee and held nothing back. Her strong hips and thighs and stomach and back all teamed in collaboration to rip the ligaments that stabilized his knee apart, popping them from their strongholds and decimating the joint. He fell to the ground gasping and spewing nose blood with each strangled exhalation.

"Fuck!" he coughed out.

'_Fuck' is right_, she thought. She dropped hard onto his fallen body with her knee. It wasn't a standard NYPD move. It wasn't any move she'd ever been taught in her life, but it seemed effective enough. She heard his ribs break beneath her—_felt _the hard crack of them against her knee. He screamed in pain. Standing back up, she stared down at the monster beneath her. He was staring right back, eyes unapologetic.

He didn't beg for his life. He didn't ask her how she had managed to get free. He didn't try to explain what he'd done and why. He just stared back at her with dead eyes. Black eyes. Holes.

He began to laugh.

It was a twisted laugh. The laugh of the damned. Loud and unrestrained and spilling forth insanity as freely as the blood that still poured from his nose. It was staining his mouth a bright, blinding red, some of it even pooling in his ears. The laugh didn't stop and Kate didn't try and stop it. He was beaten. Broken. This was a laugh of defeat and they both knew it.

She heard a loud crash from the chairs where Alexis and Rick still sat tied. Rick's chair had tipped over and he had fallen hard to the ground. It seemed he'd struggled too hard to free himself in time to aid her in the fight and the chair had been unable to balance his thrashing.

And then she was falling.

Tyson had taken her distraction as an opportunity to grab and yank at her ankle, bring her down to the concrete in a hard fall. Her elbow hit the floor first, shooting spikes of pain up and down her arm and knocking the knife to the floor. She watched as the weapon skittered away and then immediately refocused on the man who was currently trying to kill her. She didn't need a knife to take care of him.

He still had a grip on her ankle and his long fingernails were digging painfully into the tender skin there.

"Missing your stiletto, Kate?"

His red smile repulsed her and she sought to remove it from his face. Throwing her other leg in an arc, she knocked her heeled foot into his face. Rising quickly while he flailed to once again coddle his now twice-broken nose, she stood with one leg on either side of his head. When he flung a weakened hand out to grab at her leg again, she simply raised her leg slightly and then pinned his wrist beneath the pad of her foot, halting his struggles.

Twisting her leg one more time to ninety degrees, she aligned the spike of her black heel with the palm of his hand and then sank her full weight down on him.

Through his scream, she calmly spoke.

"That wasn't the only stiletto I had, _Jerry_."

When she lifted her foot again, the shoe did not come with it. It was fully impaled in his hand.

She kicked off her other shoe and then ran across the room to grab the abandoned knife. Hurrying to Castle who was still on the floor clawing at the tight ropes that bound his legs, she quickly sliced them open and freed him. Handing him the knife, she directed him to call the police and tell them to trace the phone. Then she told him to unbind Alexis and get her out of there.

She didn't want Alexis to see how this particular fight might end if Tyson didn't surrender himself.

"Shit, Kate! Tyson!" Castle's voice shook her and her head immediately spun towards where she'd left Tyson.

He'd started towards the door, but his broken ribs and knee had massively slowed his escape. She wouldn't be surprised if one of his lungs had collapsed. He'd managed to round the corner of the threshold, bent and grasping at the frame, leaving a single bloody handprint smeared along the wall.

She wasn't worried that he'd get away. He wouldn't get far in that broken body of his.

Striding barefoot quickly to the door, she found him nearly collapsed against the wall of the hallway almost twenty feet down. The tunnel was long and dark, even though every ten feet or so a bare incandescent bulb attempted to flicker some light onto the walls. The floors were lined with various construction tools that had been abandoned long enough for rust to gather on their metal faces.

She could hear the loud wheezing of Tyson as he struggled to keep moving.

To escape her.

To survive.

She continued forward slowly. There was no rush now. Nowhere for Tyson to go. No way he could fight back. And so she stalked him slowly. He knew she was there; he kept glancing back with a wild look in his eyes as he limped forward, hunched and manic.

The lights flickered above and she almost felt like the entire scene was playing out to a strobe light. There was some sort of breeze that ran through the cool hall and it chilled the sweat on her skin and pushed the sticky blonde hair out of her face. Reaching up, she grasped a fistful of the wig and pulled it off, unapologetically, pins and all. Her hair was wild. Some of it was still held back with pins while the rest flew around her in the mysterious wind of the dark tunnel.

Tyson was slowing with every step he took. His ragged breaths filled her ears and she struggled to contain a victorious smile. It slipped out anyway.

She took the moment to bend at the waist and pick up a rusted pipe from the floor. It was longer than her arm. _Detective Beckett in the hallway with a lead pipe_, Castle's voice spoke in her head. This pipe was too light to be lead. Probably titanium.

She watched as Tyson collapsed to the floor in a sagging heap of what may have been a man at one point, but was now indistinguishable as a member of humanity. Flipping the pipe over and over in her hand she tested its weight and feel. It would do as a weapon.

He was reaching for something.

Squinting through the dark-light-dark-light of the flickering hall, she saw what seemed to be a pile of their belongings. Her clutch. Castle's cell phone. Two guns.

Two guns.

He was reaching for the guns.

Quickening her pace, she ran to him. He'd gotten his fingers around the butt of Castle's revolver. She closed the last few feet, just as he weakly began to raise the gun. Lifting her pipe, she wound back mid-stride and then swung a mighty blow. With deadly accuracy she smashed the gun out of his hand, breaking his fingers in the process.

Now Tyson cowered.

The fear that had been absent earlier was now dripping down his face in a panicked sweat. He lunged for the last gun and she took another swing. Hard.

It cracked against his skull. Hard.

He didn't even have time to yell in pain before his body slumped uselessly against the wall. The pipe dropped to the floor with startlingly loud clangor. It was over. He was out. She felt her chest heaving, her blood circulating, her mind spinning. Nothing was still, and yet everything was quiet. Blood dripped from yet another wound on Tyson's body and she wondered how such a person could bleed red, just like everyone else. She waited for her heart rate to slow, but it never did. Adrenaline was working its magic, still preparing her for the fight. Never the flight.

She leaned down and pressed two fingers to his neck, feeling for a pulse that she half hoped had vanished.

It was there.

She tried to pull him forward and back into the room, but his body was too heavy and she struggled to move him against the textured floor.

"Castle!" she yelled.

There was absolutely no response from down the hall, the combination of the wind, long hallway, and the heavy door must have blocked out her voice. Or his. Had they really traversed this far away from the small warehouse room? She needed ropes to bind Tyson. She dropped his body back to the floor. His head smacked the concrete yet again, but she didn't care. Grabbing the two guns, one in each hand, she sprinted back down the hallway to grab the ropes that had formerly bound them.

Bursting through the door, she was greeted with the first good sight she'd seen all day. Castle and Alexis were seated on the floor propped up against the wall. She was sitting across his lap and he had his arms wrapped around her, like he'd never let go. She seemed to be okay with that idea. His eyes were closed and he was whispering things that Kate couldn't hear from the doorway.

Hating to break up their moment, she hesitated in voicing her request for help. Clearing her throat to announce her presence, the father and daughter looked up at her, but did not move from their embrace.

"Castle, I need some rope to tie him up. And I need your help dragging him out of that hallway."

"Is he dead?"

"No. I'm tying him because he's alive." She didn't mock him for his question. She understood his need to ask it.

He looked neither disappointed nor pleased. "Okay." He turned to be face to face with Alexis. Brushing his hand down her hair and then over her cheek, he kissed her forehead. "I'll be right back, okay?"

"Okay, Dad."

Kate had already begun to gather the ropes. They were in smaller pieces from being cut by the knife and would be almost useless in tying somebody up. She turned towards the door and spotted the pile of what she immediately recognized by memory as green and white 3-strand twisted quarter inch nylon rope. Tyson's murder weapon of choice.

Picking up his ropes, she turned to find Castle right behind her, his face set to see the fate of the man he hated. She turned and they jogged together back down the hallway towards where she had left the unconscious form of Tyson.

Except he wasn't there.

Kate stopped in the exact spot where she'd left him. Rick's cell was still on the ground right next to her purse right next to the pipe. But there was no Jerry Tyson.

Her stomach plummeted and her face drained of blood. Castle had kept moving past when she had stopped, but turned to face her once he realized that she seemed stuck in the hall.

"What? Come on, keep going. It's almost over, we just have to tie him."

"No. No, no, no, no, no. Right here. He was here. No. He was broken. He couldn't—How could he—no."

The truth of the situation was beginning to sink into Castle and she watched as the blood drained from his face as well.

"What do you mean 'he was here'?"

"This is where I left him. I swear, Castle. He was unconscious. I beat him so hard with that pipe right there. There's no way he could have woken up. I'm surprised he wasn't dead!"

"Well obviously he wasn't as unconscious as you thought!" Castle was yelling and she knew it was more at the situation than at her, but it still made her heart pound with guilt.

"Grab your phone and call the cops. Have them trace the line. Tell them Jerry Tyson the serial killer is in the area, badly injured. Get an insane amount of their Force here."

He nodded and had started dialing before she'd even finished talking.

Once she heard him begin to talk to the operator, she bent over to pick up the pipe again and then ran down the hallway, following a faint trail of blood. She'd find him. There's no fucking way he'd get far in the shape he was in. She had only left the hallway for a minute. He couldn't have gotten far.

The hallway ended abruptly about thirty feet down the corridor, and then sharply jutted off to the left. She turned the corner to find herself encountered with an exit door with a push bar. The bar was slick with Tyson's fresh blood.

She quickly pushed on it and was met with the weak and cold rays of dawn. It wasn't that bright out, but compared to the hallway, the blue light of the air nearly blinded her. She squinted through her lashes and scanned the area for Tyson or signs of his blood.

There was a faint trail down the four concrete steps to her side and then the blood was far too hard too see against the black pavement. Frantically she searched for him, hair whipping in the wind and working against her efforts, obscuring her vision.

He couldn't have gone far. He'd need immediate medical attention. She ran down the stairs and stood in the middle of the cold black pavement, her bare foot sinking into an old, dirty puddle. She was in the middle of what seemed to be a square or a maze of warehouses. None with movement or activity. She thought she could smell the Willamette in the air, but that could have been the impending rain.

He could have gone into any of these buildings. He could have gone around the buildings and found a cab (although it wasn't New York and finding a taxi in this area seemed unlikely). Maybe he had simply vanished. Disappeared. Done what Jerry Tyson does best and blended in until he was no longer distinguishable from any other man on the street.

She heard the door open and close somewhere behind her. Turning to check, she saw Castle and Alexis making their way to her. The girl looked shaken, but was walking on her own. Slowly tackling the stairs, soon they stood by her side.

There was silence except for the wind.

Kate spoke first, feeling it was her duty. "I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault, Detective Beckett."

Kate shook her head at Alexis' words even before the girl was finished speaking them.

"I should have been smarter. Now he's gone."

"He's not gone." Castle's voice was strong and seemed almost loud compared to the quiet of the world around them. "He's nearby and the cops are on their way and they'll get him."

Kate nodded, but didn't respond immediately. Anything she had to say seemed repetitive and irrelevant.

Alexis was tucked under Rick's arm and she seemed reluctant to speak also.

"He's so injured, there is no way he'll make it without medical attention. He can't go anywhere near people. He stands out too much. He can't pull his usual disappearing act this time. He's gotta crawl in a hole somewhere and hope his lung doesn't kill him."

She saw Rick nod in her peripheral vision and she felt herself fill with a little bit more lightness at the fact that she'd managed to give him some comfort. Inhaling and releasing a deep, luxurious breath of air, she leaned into his side, seeking some comfort of her own. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and squeezed his hand on her arm. A few Portland drops of rain fell around them, misting the air more than soaking it. They were all staring at the façade of one of the random warehouses, but each of them really seeing a thousand different things.

Kate was thinking of what to say to the police when they arrived. Castle was thinking about the warmth that was radiating from the two he held under his arms. Alexis was thinking about the grey sky and how she'd never been more thankful to feel rain hitting her face.

* * *

><p><em>AN: Before you go off and kill me for letting him get away, let's try and remember that if you do that, we'll never get to the fluffy chapters. Can't we all just be thankful that they lived? I know you all expected the end to be coming up soon, but it isn't. Not really. Just thought I'd get that out there right now. I warned you that this was a long-ass fic._

_Now, please. Let me have it. Did you think Beckett was badass? TOO badass? Borderline psychotic? Just the perfect amount of justice and revenge wrapped up in a ripped up dress? __The response to the last chapter was __**incredible **__and almost entirely to thank for the quick completion of this chapter.__** So, REVIEW!**_


	33. Chapter 33

_Previously in Apples & Cherries…Kate kicked ass. Tyson escaped, but is badly beaten and probably didn't get far. Rick called the police. Alexis is freeeeeeee_

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><p><span>Chapter Thirty-Three:<span>

When Rick finally unlocked the door to the loft, it was past midnight. They each had the look of a zombie etched into their faces. The wrinkles around Castle's eyes were so deep that they seemed to simply swallow his eyes. There were purple circles around Kate's and her hair still stuck out at ridiculous angles. Alexis' eyes were wide and she only blinked about once every minute.

Shell-shocked, they looked like they'd been through hell and back. They had.

No one had much of anything to say. What was there to say? Tyson hadn't been caught. The maze of warehouses and its endless entrances and exits had provided the perfect opportunity for escape for a broken bleeding man. He didn't have to go fast if his path was too twisted and full of forks in the road to follow.

They'd eventually brought dogs in who'd latched onto his scent almost immediately, baying and tugging at the leashes that pulled them back from dashing off after the one thing they longed for most. By that point, Kate, Rick, and Alexis had been nowhere near the scene. The cops had driven them down to the precinct to be questioned endlessly.

Kate had overheard two detectives discussing the progress of the search. Apparently, the dogs had followed Tyson's trail all the way to the grey waters of the Willamette. Kate hoped he'd drown. It wouldn't be long before they found him, tangled and bloated in some fishing net.

Maybe it would be wrapped around his neck.

There were choppers with searchlights, dogs with the scent of him in their nose, and an insane number of officers with his face in their minds all hell-bent on catching The Triple Killer. Every hospital, doctor's office, and urgent care facility had been notified to detain him upon possible arrival.

The three had just been released from the hospital, each with a relatively clean bill of health. Kate and Rick had been probed excessively for signs of brain damage from inhaling the cocktail of unknown chemicals on the rag. Chloroform was the only known component and it in itself could be extremely dangerous. Add in the fact that Tyson had hinted at "a number of other chemicals" and the doctors were most definitely worried about the effects to their respiratory systems, renal function, livers, and neural response.

Nothing came back outside of the normal.

Alexis had been the one they were the most concerned for. She was as healthy as could be expected. Not perfect, but not bad enough to keep overnight in a crowded, demanding hospital.

And so here they were, walking through the darkness of Rick's loft with none of them bothering to flip a switch. The lights from the city were enough to illuminate a clear path and anything else just seemed…too much. A tacit agreement formed between the three to simply remain in the gentle charcoal grey of the loft, so their various injuries would remain hidden from the others. They could pretend they were all fine in the dark with no light to expose the maladies.

Kate was the first in the living room and upon seeing the "Alexis wall" with its timeline and letters and theories, she immediately turned around and grabbed Rick by the upper arm, stopping him in the hallway where he'd been shucking his shoes.

"Castle, the living room's a mess. She doesn't need to see that right now."

His eyes jolted with a flash of understanding and he glanced at Alexis who was currently staring unblinkingly at the locks on the door.

"Right. Yeah. What should we—"

"You go clear everything away and I'll help Alexis get cleaned up."

He nodded and turned to his blonde daughter.

"Hey, sweetie. Kate's going to help you get ready for bed and I'll get some food ready, okay?"

"Sure, Dad."

"Come on, Alexis. Let's get a bath going so you can wash up for you nice, clean sheets." Kate struggled to keep her voice normal. She didn't want to let that condescending tone that people use for dogs, babies, and sick people with Alexis. She wanted to provide some normalcy. She'd been through trauma before and the baby talk only made things worse.

Alexis followed her into the master bathroom and Kate immediately turned the water on, letting the noise of the flowing tap fill the room.

"If you want to get undressed, I'm just gonna dash out and grab your shampoo and stuff from the other bathroom."

"No!" Alexis hurriedly exclaimed. Kate immediately thought the girl was afraid to be left alone, which was incredibly troublesome, but predictable. She walked forward and laid a gentle had on Alexis' arm prepared to reassure her, but the girl began explaining before she even had a chance.

"It's just that my body wash is vanilla scented."

Kate furrowed her brow, thoroughly confused. This was not what she had been expecting.

"Um…I can grab my stuff if you don't want yours?"

"That's good. Yeah. Yours isn't vanilla, right?"

"Nope. Cherry."

"Okay, yeah. Sounds perfect."

Kate smiled, still a little lost, and quickly ran to her suitcase to grab the bath stuff. Castle was almost done cleaning up the mess already and at his questioning look, she simply shrugged her shoulders and walked towards him.

"What are you going to cook?"

"Well, there's not much here to work with. I was thinking maybe pasta?"

"Plain?"

He smirked at her. "Well, aren't we picky, Detective? You save our lives and now you think you deserve_ sauce_ on you pasta?"

She ducked her head and started to argue, but he held up a hand to stop her.

"Never you mind. I'll find something to put on it."

She rolled her eyes and passed by him close enough to whisper as she went, "Good. And maybe you can think of a little something to put on _yourself _while you're at it. Really, Rick, I think you've had your chest showing for the majority of this little trip."

Adding a pat to his exposed chest she continued on towards the bathroom.

"Hey! This was not a voluntary situation! Tyson slashed it open without my permission. And technically, I'm still wearing a shirt. It's just not fully functional."

"I'll say." She closed the door to the bathroom as she heard a small laugh escape the man she'd left behind in the kitchen.

When she turned around, she saw Alexis staring at her reflection in the mirror wearing a pale blue cotton bra and grey underwear with a unicorn on the back. It made Kate smile a bit to herself, but then she saw the look on Alexis' face and she knew that the girl was getting lost in painful memories.

"Alexis." Her voice was gentle, but firm enough to draw the girl out. Alexis smiled embarrassedly at being caught and then turned her attention back to her body.

"I look like Casper."

"No you don't."

She did.

"I'm way too skinny. Kidnapping is going to become the new celebrity diet once the press gets a hold of this story and sees me."

"You are a bit too thin. But if I know your dad, you won't have to worry one bit about the press. They're not going to come near you."

She could almost see at least one layer of stress shed from Alexis' shoulder. She reached a hand up to finger her long blonde hair.

"I hate this color."

"Your old one will grow back with time. And you don't look bad blonde, just different."

"I still hate it."

"I understand." She walked up behind Alexis and they made eye contact in the mirror. Kate pulled lightly on her shoulder to turn her and guide her towards the bath. "Now get in before it gets cold and we have to run some more."

Alexis blushed and looked down at herself.

"Um, I don't want to be a…prude, or whatever. But—"

"Don't worry about it. I've got all the same bits as you and I promise I won't look in any case."

Alexis still looked hesitant.

"Look. There's no way in hell that your dad's going to let you be alone tonight, so it's either him or me. Personally…I'd pick me. I'm delightful company."

Alexis flashed a true smile and Kate warmed with pride at being the cause. She finished removing her clothes and then gingerly stepped into the hot bath water. Once she was fully immersed, Kate turned back around and made sure too only look directly in her eyes. She set the bottles of various cherry scented bath goodies along the edge and then sat down on the floor beside the tub.

There was quiet except for the snap of the soap bottle that Alexis uncapped and then the subsequent splashing as she moved about and washed herself.

"So…cherry, huh?"

"Don't tell your dad. He's been dying to know which one of those bottles is the cherry one."

"Oh, I'll bet he is." Alexis laughed, almost to herself.

"It's fun keeping him guessing. Really it's just about every single bath product I own. But he doesn't need to know that."

"I'll gladly keep the secret."

Kate ran her finger along the line of grout in the marble tiled floor. She hoped she wasn't overstepping, but right now she wanted to know anything she could to try and help Alexis through.

"So, why not vanilla?"

Kate was met with a bit of gentle splashing and as she turned her head to look at Alexis, she saw that the girl was nibbling at her lip, debating the answer to give.

"He liked vanilla. He kept spraying me with it telling me it 'had to be vanilla. Had to make it right. It had to be vanilla'."

Kate nodded. "His mom probably smelled like vanilla. That's why he is the way he is: mommy issues."

"Yeah, well, we've all got mommy issues. Doesn't excuse it."

"I'm not saying it does. It just explains the vanilla thing, I guess."

"Yeah. I guess."

Alexis dunked under the water to wash out the shampoo and when she resurfaced, she looked like she might have washed away the thoughts of Tyson. At least for now, in this moment.

"So…you and my dad finally did it, I see."

Kate's felt her eyes bulge out of her head and her jaw drop. She could decide whether to deny, defend, or acknowledge it. She settled for incoherent stuttering.

"Uh—What do you—How—?"

"Well, I know Tyson likes to mark up necks, but he tends to use ropes not lips. You've got a hickey riiiiight there." She reached out a finger and traced its outline on Kate's neck.

"Oh, I'm going to kill him."

"So it's true then? You and my dad are…together."

_Well this conversation had gotten out of control rather quickly._

"Uh, no. No we aren't. Right now, I mean. Not that we will be later or anything. Or that we won't. Just…no. Not right now."

_Well that was eloquent and not awkward at _all.

Alexis just smiled at her and then reached for the razor to start shaving her legs. Studiously examining her raised ankle, she spoke to Kate in a quiet voice.

"You know, it's okay with me if you guys decide that you want to be together."

_Well, hell. This was pretty much her least favorite conversation topic ever._

"Um…thanks."

_That was simple. Maybe they could drop the subject now._

"Can I ask you a favor?"

"Sure, Alexis. Anything."

"Can you somehow ask my dad to…not ask me questions about Tyson and everything?"

Oh. Maybe not anything. She couldn't promise that.

"I don't think your dad will go along with that. He loves you and he's going to want to help you through this."

"I know. Which is why I need you to talk to him. I love him too. And I don't want to tell him the things that happened. It won't make anything better and it will only hurt him. I need him to be…my dad. Happy. Not thinking about the details of what happened to me."

She needed him to be her ground wire. She needed him to be the thing that remained relatively untainted from the experience. She needed normalcy.

"Okay. I can ask. But Alexis, you do need to talk to somebody. I hope you know that."

"I know. I'll probably have a whole slew of mental issues for the rest of my life, won't I. I'll be seeing a shrink for the rest of my life."

"You'd be surprised what we can handle as human beings. It might look bleak now, but you can move past this. Just find a therapist you trust and let them help you get there."

Alexis nodded and then sighed, "I think I'm all clean now."

Kate handed her a towel and then turned as Alexis got out and wrapped it around herself. Once she had stepped completely out of the tub, they both seemed to realize she had absolutely nothing to wear. Staring at the pile of her filthy clothes on the floor, Alexis squished up her nose.

"Can we burn these?"

"How about we just throw them away?"

"I suppose that will do."

Kate wasted no time grabbing the pile and then stuffing them into the empty trashcan of the bathroom. She snagged the bandages Alexis had discarded from her wrists onto the counter and threw them away too. Searching through the large medicine cabinet, she found a first aid kit that had a roll of fresh gauze wrap. Puling it out along with some Neosporin, she held out her hand for Alexis to place her own in.

"Let's wrap these up again."

Alexis obliged and didn't flinch as Kate began to dab the antiseptic onto her deep and ugly wounds. Kate was as gentle. The marks the ropes had left looked horrible and a ridiculous reminder of the reality Alexis had been through.

Sensing Kate's thoughts, Alexis spoke quietly.

"They aren't so bad. It could be worse. Could be my neck."

Kate's eyes shot up to meet Alexis' crystal blue ones slightly horrified at the comment. Alexis had a tiny smile plucking at her lips. _Wow, the kid had some dark humor. She'd make a good cop. That gallows humor is perfect. _

"You keep those wisecracks away from your dad. I have a feeling the humor will be lost on him."

"I think I smell garlic. Is he cooking?"

"Yeah. He said something about pasta. Don't get too excited, though. I have a feeling it's going to be…interesting."

"Well, it_ smells_ heavenly. Hurry up and wrap me so we can go eat!"

Kate laughed and finished up wrapping her wrists and ankles.

"Let me go grab you something to wear."

"Get me one of his shirts."

Kate quirked an eyebrow up. "The smell?"

"Yeah. They always smell…comforting."

Kate could understand how she'd want that wrapped around her tonight. Nodding her support, she opened the door to the bathroom and was met with a mouth-watering wave of delicious air. The scent of garlic and butter and spices and pasta filled the air and her stomach growled with approval and anticipation.

"That better be good, Rick. You've got my stomach all excited."

"It's almost ready. I doubt it will be the best thing you've ever had, but you and your prima donna taste buds are just going to have to rough it."

She laughed openly and then sighed with mock resignation, "Fine. I suppose I'll try and stomach it."

He smiled at her from across the room and she felt her insides melt into warm chocolate. _That _was the way the crinkles at his eyes were _supposed _to look. He walked over and stood in front of her, while she struggled to remember why she'd come out in the first place.

"Can Alexis borrow a shirt?"

"Sure. You know where my bag is."

She ran a hand through her hair, but it got horribly trapped in the mess of pins and tangles. Scrunching up her nose she tried to ineffectually pull a few out and pat it down. Castle reached up with a hand to still hers. Then, with the utmost care and tenderness he began to pull the remaining ones from her hair. She hardly breathed. His face was so close, but his eyes were completely focused on her hair. Once he'd completed the task, he ran one hand down it and smiled.

"I'm glad it's brown again."

"Me too," she breathed, dazedly.

Mentally shaking herself, she stepped back. He turned around and walked back towards the kitchen, leaving her to seek out his bag. She unzipped the leather carrier and rolled her eyes at the mess inside. Pulling out a flannel, she automatically lifted it to her nose and took a deep breath.

_Holy hell._

_Books. Ink. Wood. Rick._

She stood and turned only to find herself face to face with a very smug looking Rick.

"Whatcha doin there, Beckett?"

"Just…grabbing the shirt for Alexis."

"Uh huh. Aaaand?"

She rolled her eyes and lifted her chin in response to his attempt to make her uncomfortable.

"I was just making sure it smelled right. She requested one that smelled like you."

"And did it?"

Biting the inside of her cheek, she struggled to remain collected.

"Yes."

He grinned and she could just sense that he had more to say on the subject.

"And what exactly is it that I smell like?"

"Yeah. We're done here. I'm gonna go get this to Alexis."

She was almost six steps away when he called her name and she turned reluctantly again. She was desperate to make her escape, but absolutely refused to let him know he was getting to her.

"You should give her these too." He chucked a ball of material to her and it floated down into her hands.

_Underwear._

_Oh my god, she was clutching a navy plaid pair of Rick's boxers._

Completely unable to maintain her composure any longer, the blush she had been studiously tamping down flooded her face with heat. Turning, she walked as calmly as possible into the bathroom, shutting the door behind her and leaning up against it.

"You okay?" Alexis asked with her eyebrows raised. Kate handed her the clothes.

"Yeah. Fine." Her voice was a little too breathy to be convincing, but Alexis wisely let it drop.

"I'm going to hop in the shower if you don't mind."

"Oh. Sure. Let me just throw these on."

Kate turned around as Alexis dressed quickly and then moved out of the way of the door while Alexis passed through it. Quickly stripping down she hopped in the shower and sped through her routine so she could join the little family that awaited her. With food.

…

When she finally emerged from the shower, she had to stick her head out of the door and yell for Alexis to bring her bag of clothes.

"Don't worry about it, Alexis. I've got it covered." She knew that tone in Richard Castle's voice and it did not bode well.

A few seconds later, the man appeared at the door and she was not at all surprised to see he did not have her bag with him. He _was_ holding a small stack of clothes though.

"I am not wearing your shirt, Castle."

"Ah, but it _smells_ like me. Don't you want to wear this big, comfortable, soft, flannel shirt that smells just like your very favorite author?"

"No. I want to wear my own clothes."

"Then I suppose you'll just have to come out of there in that towel and go get them yourself. It's not like it's nothing I haven't seen before on you."

He leered and pretended to try and peek around the doorframe.

She shut it closed in his face.

_Well. Things could be worse._ And if she were honest with herself, she knew she really wouldn't mind having a giant comfortable shirt to wear tonight. It didn't hurt that it smelled like her very favorite author.

Taking a slightly self-loathing breath, she snapped the door open a sliver and stuck her hand through the crack. She could practically see his victorious smile through the door as he handed her the clothes.

Pulling them inside, she saw that he had included her own athletic shorts. Well that was a victory she hadn't even realized she'd needed to hope for. She'd completely forgotten about the "bottoms" situation and was infinitely relieved to know she wouldn't have to be wearing his boxers.

Slipping the flannel on and then the shorts, she made her way to the kitchen and smiled at the scene. They were all dressed in varying shades of Rick's plaid flannels and looked like a catalogue portrait of an Eddie Bauer family. Noticing her smile and guessing the reason for it, Rick smiled back.

"We were thinking about forming a lumberjack team. They have those, right Alexis? Log rolling, tree chopping, axe throwing…"

"Yeah, dad. If we train hard enough maybe we can qualify for the summer Olympics."

Kate smiled at Alexis' joke and then sat at the counter next to her.

"Okay. Serve me this experiment of yours."

He scooped out some penne onto plates and then passed them to the girls.

"Penne pasta with tomatoes, garlic, butter, and oregano."

"Huh." Kate looked at the delicious food skeptically. "What's the catch?"

"The butter and the tomatoes had been frozen in the freezer for about four years and the garlic and the oregano were dried and from spice jars."

Alexis had already started scarfing hers down. "Just eat it, Kate. It's good."

Kate forked a bite into her mouth and immediately approved.

"Not bad, Rick."

He rolled his eyes at her weak compliment; her facial expression when she had chewed that first bite had told him how she truly felt.

They ate fairly quickly and light-heartedly. It was as if they were all perfectly in agreement to forget for the moment all the events that had filled the past month. Castle insisted that Alexis sleep in the master bed with him. She didn't argue. Falling asleep in the strong arms of her father felt like the perfect way to end the day. She'd be surprised if he was ever able to sleep elsewhere.

Alexis had managed to convince Kate with minimal effort to sleep in her bed instead of on the couch. It didn't feel as wrong now that the girl herself was there to give her permission. Alexis rose first to head to bed. She kissed her father on the cheek and then gave Kate an incredibly long hug.

After Alexis hadn't unwrapped her arms for a while, Kate turned to whisper in her ear.

"I'm glad you're okay, kid."

"I'm glad you came to save me," came the return whisper.

Kate impulsively kissed her cheek and then the top of her head, but she still hadn't been released from the hug. Looking at Rick over Alexis' shoulder, she saw him valiantly attempting to look away and failing miserably as his eyes flickered to the embrace over and over again.

"Alexis, honey. She'll be here when you wake up and you can continue the hugging then."

Alexis pulled back without an ounce of embarrassment on her features and headed without another word to go to bed.

Kate and Rick were left alone on opposite sides of the counter. Kate was pushing a lone tomato around on her otherwise empty plate. Rick was watching her push it.

"You tired?" he asked.

"Yeah. You?"

"I am. But I don't know if I'll sleep."

"Same here."

"Soon though. We'll be able to sleep soon."

"Not while he's still out there." She spoke quietly.

He hummed noncommittally.

She stood and took all three plates to the sink to wash them quickly. He was still deep in thought, staring at her, but not_ at_ her.

"I'm going to head to bed. Wake me if you need me, okay?"

He smiled sweetly. "I always need you."

Her heart stopped. Then started back up again at twice its normal speed. Swallowing thickly and playing momentarily with the long sleeves of his shirt that she wore, she nodded and looked down.

"Goodnight, Rick."

And then she leaned forward and pushed up on her toes. Kissing his cheek softly, she stepped around him without looking back and headed into Alexis' room.

…

Hours later, she had lost track of time in the pitch-black room. It had to be around three in the morning. She stared at the ceiling and waited for dawn to arrive; it couldn't be far away. Soon the light would bless her room and she could leave the thoughts of Tyson with the darkness.

The stickiness of Tyson's blood, the sound of his screams, the look in Castle's eyes as he chose her over and over, Alexis' wrists, her torn green dress that now kept Alexis' clothes company in the trashcan, the ten stinging marks on the inside of her arm, Tyson's eyes, his laugh, his red mouth. Her thoughts spun too quickly to stop.

She inhaled deeply and the scent from Castle's shirt filled her soul, calming it slightly. Alexis was lucky to have the man himself lying next to her. Kate remembered how his warmth had felt pressed to her side on those previous difficult nights. It was even more comforting than his scent.

She ached to rest her head on his shoulder. In the dark, thoughts like this didn't matter. She had no one to hide it from but herself, and frankly, she was a bit tired of playing peek-a-boo with her own heart.

Just then she heard the soft click of her door opening and a soft beam of deep grey light fell across the room to land on her bed. The door continued to open slowly and she waited for the man she knew was on the other side to just finish the job and step in. Eventually, she saw his frame dimly outlined. He obviously couldn't tell that she was wide-awake because he simply stood there in the dark, staring at her on the bed.

He soon stepped inside the room and oh-so-quietly stood next to her bed, still staring. He reached a hand out and brushed it along her hairline.

"Castle, are you okay?"

His hand froze in place before he slowly withdrew it, breathing in deeply before speaking.

"Come to the bed with us."

"What?"

"Please come sleep with Alexis and me. I know it sounds…odd. But it wasn't just her I almost lost."

Kate was silent. Staring up at the man whose emotions had obviously gotten the better of him in the darkness.

"Please, Kate," he repeated.

She sat up in the bed and swung her feet over the edge. Reaching out, she slipped her hand into the hand that had seconds ago stroked her face. They walked together back into the main room and then climbed onto the bed.

Alexis was sleeping almost dead center, so she took one side and Rick took the other. Lying on her side, she stared into his face as he stared back.

"Thank you," he whispered.

She shrugged and smiled softly at him. Reaching over Alexis, she held his hand again, stroking her thumb across his knuckles.

"It's going to get better. I promise."

He looked down at his sleeping daughter whose face was pressed into his chest and then back up to meet Kate's eyes.

"It's already looking better."

* * *

><p><em>AN: Oh my god. Longest chapter ever. It was too long to edit. Sorry if it's full of comma atrocities and grammatical nonsense._

_I was so so so so so happy to be able to write some actual fluff into the story. I mean, obviously the dark times aren't completely over, but they got to be in this happy little thankful bubble._

_What did you guys think? Favorite parts? These chapters are coming out at like FOUR times the predicted rate because your responses have been so amazing._


	34. Chapter 34

_Previously in Apples & Cherries…Tyson took a dip in the Willamette. Rick got Kate to come to his bed in the middle of the night. Fluff!_

_Also: For those of you who couldn't remember when Rick 'lost' his shirt, it was back at the theatre when Tyson slashed it open with a shard of glass and cut his chest._

* * *

><p><span>Chapter Thirty-Four:<span>

Kate's eyes fluttered open slowly before they were assaulted by the bright morning light of the apartment. Burrowing her face into the pillow, she squeezed her eyes closed and tried to eliminate any access point for photon entry. Breathing in the freshly laundered smell of the pillowcase, she pleaded with her awakening mind to simply fall back into empty dreams.

Her proprioception kicked in as she succumbed to defeat in her battle to fall back asleep. She was on her side with something heavy resting on her leg. Her arm was wrapped around something warm and her torso was weighed down by what felt like arms.

Slowly opening her eyes again to figure out whose limbs belonged to whom, she was immediately graced with Alexis' pale, pretty face. The girl had rolled over in her sleep and now was so close that Kate could feel her sleepy puffs of breath tickling the skin of her neck. Their legs were entwined and Alexis had one of her arms wrapped around Kate's stomach.

It was an odd feeling, waking up in someone's arms, but not an unpleasant one. Simply unfamiliar. She took a moment to really look at the sleeping girl and assess her state. She really did look extremely well kempt for a kidnapping victim. Her cheekbones were a little more defined than Kate remembered and her skin was almost translucent in its paleness. But there were no bruises or cuts or healing scars. That was good. At least her trauma had been limited and maybe even minimized. Perhaps her healing would be fast. Maybe the smiles and the bubble and the light in her eyes would return faster than anyone could hope. She wished for both Alexis and Rick.

Lifting a hand to brush the blonde bangs away from Alexis' forehead, she watched as the extraordinary girl breathed in and out with the peace of a girl in her father's arms. Looking over to see if Castle was resting as serenely, she was met with his startlingly blue eyes, awake and slightly crinkled in a gentle smile.

"Morning," he mouthed silently, trying not to wake the girl that lay between them.

She smiled and was silent in return. "Morning."

She felt something tickle her arm and realized that he was smoothing his thumb over her. She could feel the sleep-warmed flannel caress her skin there and she repressed a sigh of contentment. His arm had been wrapped around her at night, simultaneously enveloping his daughter and her. She felt warm and satisfied and sleepy, closing her eyes again, she let the constant motion of his thumb lull her easily back to sleep.

…

She awoke later to the smell and sound of sizzling bacon. Opening her eyes, she saw that Alexis hadn't moved an inch from the last time she had woken up, but Castle's side of the bed was empty. Detangling herself from the girl as gently as possible, she rose and made her way to the kitchen, rubbing sleep from her eyes.

"Hey."

"Hey, Detective. Getting hungry?"

She sat down at one of the barstools and laid her head on her arms.

"I could probably sleep for another week. What time is it?"

"Almost nine."

"Hmm." She pulled her head off her arm and rested it in her hand instead. "So where'd you get the bacon?"

"There's a store around the corner. I got some other stuff, too. Things Alexis might need."

"That was thoughtful."

"Yeah, I really just couldn't sleep anymore. Too much on my mind, you know?"

"I do. So what's the plan for the day?"

"Well, I figure we could eat breakfast, get ready, and then go home."

"Home?" She was suddenly nervous. In all her time thinking alone in the bedroom last night, she'd never once let her thoughts wander to what she would do if they went home. For some reason it never really occurred to her that they would go home so soon. Wasn't there police business they had to stay in town for, or something?

"Castle, how can you go home? The police and the case and everything…they might need you."

"I already talked to the precinct this morning. I'm doing what's best for Alexis. She doesn't need to be in this town. She needs to be at home with the people who love her. I told them they could contact me at any time and I'd answer questions or even fly back out. But I'm taking my daughter home today."

His cheerful morning manner was disintegrating before her eyes. This was obviously non-negotiable. He was taking Alexis home.

"Our flight leaves at 2:00. I got another pilot who's going to fly my plane home from SeaTac. We're leaving from Portland."

"Sounds smart." _Who was included in this "we" of his?_

"I hope you don't mind I bought your ticket too. If you feel weird or whatever you can just pay me back."

_Oh._

"Oh."

She poked at some of the bacon on the plate he'd slid to her. Gnawing on her lip, she debated whether or not to tell him what he was most assuredly not going to like.

"Castle…I…I'm not coming with you."

He froze with his back to her, spatula in the pan mid-flip. He set the tool down, but didn't turn.

"What do you mean? You already got a flight out?"

"No. I'm going to stay here."

He turned around and his eyes were very powerful knots of staunchness and pleading.

"No. You're coming home with us. The police department here can handle this. You've got your own job to get back to. We got Alexis. That's what we came for."

"I—"

"Hey, guys. Where'd we get bacon?"

Alexis was approaching the two and took a seat right next to Kate. Shooting Beckett a _this isn't over_ glance, Castle answered his daughter.

"Bought it at the store this morning. I got some other stuff for you, too."

He walked as he talked, abandoning the bacon in his haste to provide his daughter with anything she might possibly need. Kate stood up and commandeered the pan to keep anything from burning. Prodding at the strips, she watched Castle hustle back to the kitchen holding a few bags.

Unloading things onto the counter he began to enumerate the purchases with an almost nervous energy.

"Some flip flops, a couple pairs of shorts, a sweatshirt, some T-shirts—all Portland memorabilia, sorry—some underwear, a sports bra, tweezers, ponytail holders, and uhhh…"

He pulled two boxes out of the last bag, face reddening a bit.

"I didn't know if you'd need these. Or if you use the…those kind or the these kind. So I just got both. Anyway. I was just trying to think of everything."

Alexis smiled at her dad's rare embarrassment. She'd had her grandmother for that particular aspect of life and she and her dad didn't ever really discuss it. She grabbed the pads and tampons and rolled her eyes.

"Don't need them now, but thanks for thinking of everything, Dad." She kissed his cheek and then started putting everything back into the bags.

Kate had let the bacon burn.

"Shit! I mean, shoot."

"'Shit' is fine, Kate," Alexis spoke over her shoulder as she went to place the bags by the bed.

"No it isn't. Not out of your mouth, kid." Castle was only half-teasing.

"You can have my bacon, Alexis. I'll eat this."

"What about me?" Castle whined.

"We can split it."

"Mmm. Lucky me." Kate rolled her eyes at his sarcasm and divvied up the remaining bacon between them.

The cloud of darkness that they had steadfastly ignored last night was slightly more present this morning. They all denied its existence yet again, but in the light of a new day, it was much harder to ignore. Alexis had been kidnapped. Tyson had escaped. Rick had picked Kate ten times. They were all thinking it, but all refusing to acknowledge its existence out loud yet.

…

By noon, they were all packed. Not another word had been said about Kate accompanying them on the flight. Rick seemed to be functioning under the assumption that she was. Kate was pulling away from words like "we" and "us", trying to make it clear without breaking into a fight that she would be staying.

By the time they were all out at the curb by Castle's rental car, the time had come and the confrontation had yet to occur. It was like both were steadfastly ignoring the hints of the other and positively refusing to show any sign of bending. Castle was throwing his bag into the backseat next to Alexis when he turned to Kate and held out his hand.

This was it.

He wanted her bag and she wasn't going to be able to give it to him.

"Castle, I'm staying."

He swallowed and shook his head, peeking under the frame of the car door to look at Alexis and then shutting it gently, effectively cutting the girl off from the ensuing conversation.

"Kate. I'm not letting you stay. You're coming home with us."

She was impressed with his stubborn insistence, but it didn't sway her in the least. She _could_ see the pain in his eyes though, and that had her momentarily reconsidering. She knew he wanted to keep Alexis and herself close for the time being. She knew he was still picturing that moment he'd thought he'd lost her when she never came back to him in the theatre.

But this was bigger than that. This was bigger than them.

Stepping forward so that her voice could adopt the necessary level of gentleness that it needed and still be heard, she laid a hand on his arm and tried to convey with her eyes an apology for her unalterable decision.

"Castle. I've got to stay. He's out there. He's out there somewhere and he's not going to just give up. I won't be rogue anymore; I'll just be assisting this police department, so I'll be safe."

"But they don't need you."

"Yeah. They do."

"No they don't, Kate. Your job at home needs you. These guys have everything they need to find Tyson."

"They don't have the personal experience with him. They can't get in his mind like we can—like I can."

"I don't want you to be in his mind."

Kate sighed and withdrew her hand from his arm, stepping back once again. He was as set in his opinion as she was.

"I'm going to find him for us. I'm going to finish what we started. He's not going to hurt us anymore."

Caste scrubbed at his face, losing a battle that he hadn't even known he was going to be fighting. Glancing at the watch on his wrist, he noted that he and Alexis were running out of time to get to the airport. He was running out of time with Kate.

Leaning heavily back on the car, he spoke in resignation.

"I got something for you. When I was out getting stuff for Alexis this morning. I just…saw it. I didn't even pay for it. I was hoping I could just give it to you someplace happier. New York. Someplace that doesn't still reek of him."

He was rambling. Kate stepped forward again, not touching him, but trying to draw him out of his stalled goodbye.

"What is it, Rick?"

"It's just a thank you. A thank you for following me. A thank you for being here. For getting Alexis back."

He opened the car door and she heard the unmistakable slide of the zipper on his bag. Standing back up he turned to her with his little gift of thanks.

Her hand reached out slowly, almost trancelike to take the flower from him. She thought they were orchids at first, but once she held the single strand in her hand she knew they must be something else.

Snowy white flowers dangled from the stem like a row of tear drops. Beautiful. Delicate. Sad.

She lightly touched one of the flowers that hung from the spring green strand and watched as it swayed gently back and forth. She looked back up into the pleading eyes of Richard Castle and swallowed a whole slew of emotion.

"Thank you. They're beautiful. What are they?"

He looked down and away momentarily before bringing his eyes back up to her. Intense. Resolute. Earnest.

"Bleeding Hearts. If you consume them, they'll make you crazy, but the scent will make her follow you wherever you go."

Kate couldn't speak. Her throat burned and her heart hurt. Bled.

"I can't follow you this time."

"I know."

She didn't know exactly when they had gotten to this place of first names and arm touching and waking up together every morning, but it had happened. Somewhere along the line, something had shifted and while she couldn't quite figure out where they'd landed themselves, the eight little heart-shaped flowers in her hand told her they weren't in Kansas anymore.

She leaned in. For a hug. For a hold. For contact.

Her forehead found his neck and they breathed together for a few seconds before she lifted her chin to kiss his. Stepping away from him once again, she spoke her farewell.

"Have a safe flight."

He raised a hand to her face and pushed back a bit of hair. Leaning in to once again close the distance that seemed to just not want to be present between the two, he kissed her cheek as well, whispering against her skin.

"Come home soon, Kate."

* * *

><p><em>AN: Sorry for the bit of wait. I had no idea how to turn this transition chapter into something people actually wanted to read. I hope it worked out okay and you guys love it. LOOK! I wrote TWO non-angsty chapters in a row! Wow. _

_Aren't Bleeding Hearts perfect for Caskett? Especially the Caskett of this story? They make each other crazy but they follow each other anywhere. Check out my tumblr (URL link in my FF bio) for a bit more information/pictures on/of Bleeding Hearts (my second favorite flower)._

_Reviews are love. _


	35. Chapter 35

_Previously in Apples & Cherries…Rick is taking Alexis home. Kate is staying. Elle is getting undeserved hate mail from anonymous douches. DELETED._

* * *

><p><span>Chapter Thirty-Five:<span>

When Castle finally arrived home, he was immediately pushed aside by the strong arm of his mother. She gathered Alexis into her chest and began kissing everything in reach. He'd kept her abreast of their situation, calling multiple times a day to basically tell her that they were no closer than they had been the last time he'd spoken to her. He'd called her from the car this morning to let her know they were on their way home and that Alexis was safe, sound, healthy, and blonde.

She'd left her production in the hands of an understudy the moment Rick had called her about Alexis' disappearance and she'd been staying in the loft and checking in with the precinct ever since. She'd been subjected to a whole different kind of worry; she couldn't fly across the country to find Alexis, seek revenge, throttle her son, kiss everything better. She had to wait for an outcome she had absolutely no control over.

She understood well why Rick had gone off on his own to find her. The helplessness had been near unbearable.

Castle watched as his mother held her granddaughter. Her tears did nothing to diminish the strength of the woman and she let them flow without wiping them away, their presence a reminder of Alexis'. She welcomed them.

Alexis didn't cry.

Finally pulling back from her, Martha then hugged her son with less exuberance, but no less love. Castle hugged her back, infinitely grateful that he hadn't had to return without Alexis. Finally wiping away the tears, Martha ushered them into the loft, almost as if they were guests and she the host.

"How was your flight?" The question was altogether ridiculous and toned as if they had simply returned from a vacation. But what else was there to say? How else to lead into a conversation with two people whose eyes carried a secret, hidden darkness?

"Uneventful," Rick replied.

Martha nodded and let her eyes take in the appearance of her son. _Eyes dark. Hair unstyled. Shoulders tense. Thin._

_Broken, but healing._

Her eyes shifted to Alexis. _Blonde. Translucent. Thin. Wrists wrapped. _

_Empty._

"Richard, dear. Why don't you go take a shower? Alexis and I can find something to eat."

"I'm not really hungry."

"I don't need a shower."

She stood and faced Alexis first. "Does your father need to take a shower?"

"Yes. He hasn't had one yet. He's filthy."

"You hear her, Richard? No go take a shower."

"Only if Alexis eats."

Alexis rolled her eyes. "Fine."

Castle reluctantly rose and with a parting kiss to her crown, he left his daughter. Walking into his study, he was greeted with a frozen frame of his life a mere week ago. Beer bottles lined the sill and papers covered the desk. His draft of the next Nikki Heat still sat exactly where he'd left it, waiting for a once-over from his little human spell check.

He took a second to run his fingers over the smudges that darkened the crisp white page and dragged out the letters. He looked at his fingers, half expecting the ink to have marked him once again. It hadn't.

Moving through the study, he opened his bedroom and afforded his bed only a passing glance. He'd be sleeping in Alexis' room tonight; his bed would have to wait out yet another lonely night. The bathroom door was open and he entered through it, shedding his shirt as he walked.

He leaned forward over the counter to look closely at his eyes. Wrinkles. He looked old. Distancing himself from the man in the mirror, he hoped the extra feet would manage to blur the tired circles of his eyes. It did. Sort of.

Running a hand from his shoulder down to the opposite waist, he traced the angry, red scab Tyson had carved into him. It cut an unbroken path straight across his chest but it didn't hurt, really. It just itched a little and felt like a bruise if he pushed into it too hard. Turning to the shower stall and flicking the knobs for water, he briefly wondered if he'd scar. It was just deep enough that it might leave a silver scar racing down his chest. Could have been sexy if it wasn't a constant reminder of the circumstances under which he'd earned it.

He shed his pants and stepped into the rapidly fogging shower, immediately reaching for shampoo. He intended this shower to be quick. He had a daughter to hover over. Kate had warned him not to talk to her about the kidnapping and to simply make an appointment with a therapist as soon as possible. He had the feeling Alexis had told her to say that, but he'd listen anyway. He wouldn't talk to her about it, but he also wouldn't pretend it hadn't happened. They'd had their fill of that particular tactic in Portland. Any more, and it could become an unhealthy habit that hurt their healing process rather than aided it.

Moving from his hair to his body, he washed from the top down. Scrubbing his skin with the washcloth until every particle of dirt from the warehouse was cleared off, he watched the brownish water swirl to the drain. Perhaps he'd needed this shower more than he'd thought.

He spun to wash the frothing soap from his front, but stopped mid-turn, his eye caught on something.

_K-A-T-E_

He swallowed the thick flame that rose from his chest. _Kate._

Her name gleamed from the liquid-clear surface, carved through the fog that hovered and clung to the glass. His hand rose of it's own accord and pressed against the glass, directly upon her own handprint. Her name and her hand had materialized from the fog as if from nowhere and healed and hurt him at the same time. Curling the tips of his fingers into the glass he let them meet the five ends of her own fingers. She had perfect hands. Strong and delicate. Expressive. A puzzle piece for his own.

He _ached_ for her.

Shutting off the water, he gave her name one last look before he stepped out. The K had a swirled embellishment. So very Kate and so very un-Beckett. Sometimes he wished she'd be less of a contradiction. The dichotomy of Kate Beckett was so very impossible to understand. Hard and soft. Heels and bulletproof vests. A kiss goodbye, but none hello. She would follow him across the country, but wouldn't follow him back.

Confusing as hell.

And the only woman he would ever want to be with. Her name scrolled onto his glass would fade; her name tattooed on his heart would not. It had killed a little part of him when he had left her. He'd gotten into his car and driven away from the one person who'd followed him to hell and back, leaving her in a city with the devil loose.

He wanted to be with her.

More than anything, he wanted to stand by her side.

But he'd had to pick. He'd had to pick and pick and pick and it seemed he'd always have to pick against Kate.

Castle scrubbed at his hair with the towel, leaving it spiked and unruly, before he walked naked out of his bathroom and towards his chest of drawers. Flinging on a shirt, boxers, and pajama pants, he dressed and then went back out to the kitchen.

"What did you eat?"

"Just toast," Alexis answered as she tapped a crust mindlessly against the rim of her plate.

"Save any for me, kid?"

"Richard, I made you a real sandwich. Alexis said she wasn't hungry enough, but I figured you would be."

"Actually, I'm not really hungry. I'm exhausted." He looked at his daughter whose mind was obviously elsewhere. "Alexis, honey, are you ready for bed?"

"Yeah."

"Well, then let's get you all tucked in. I'm going to stay in your room tonight, okay?"

"Yeah, that's fine."

"Richard, are you sure? You look like you need some good sleep and you aren't going to get it sitting in that armchair of hers."

"I'll be fine. I won't sleep at all if I'm not in there."

"We can both just sleep in the bed. I don't mind." She looked at her dad, blue eyes trusting and pleading. "In fact, I might sleep better if you're there and then all our problems are solved."

He kissed her head in reassurance.

"But there's only room for two in your bed. Where on Earth will Monkey Bunkey sleep?"

"Oh, right. I guess it's the chair for you after all."

"Nope. Nuh-uh. You already offered. No taksies-backsies."

Alexis offered him a smile for his efforts and then sighed. "Fine. But I'll kick you out if you snore."

They made their way upstairs to her bedroom and he put his hand on her head to steer her to the bathroom instead of directly to her bed where she'd been aiming.

"Teeth first. Then bed."

While she was brushing, he folded down the sheets, fluffed the pillows, and set his phone and a book by the nightstand in case she wanted him to read to her. Then he flopped down on one side and stared at the bathroom door until she came out about twenty seconds later. She crawled in next to him and immediately tucked herself into his arm.

"Want me to read to you?"

"No. Did you call Detective Beckett?"

"No."

"You should, you know. She'd wanna know we made it home."

"Since when are you the expert on Beckett?"

"I'm not. I just have common sense. Plus I can tell you are dying to talk to her."

"Not dying…"

"Just call her, Dad."

He knew he should. He didn't quite know why he hadn't yet. He felt guilty for leaving her and he felt like somehow they'd been thrown back into the radio silence of the week before. While it was past midnight here, it was much earlier on the other coast. She'd be awake. He reached for his phone and dialed.

"Beckett."

"Hey, it's me."

"Hey. How are you guys? Make it home?"

"Safe and sound. Alexis offered to be my teddy bear again tonight."

"That was nice of her. Is she…doing okay?"

"Yeah. I think so."

"Is she right next to you?"

"Yes, indeedy."

"Will you tell me the truth later? I'm worried."

"But of course, my Dear Detective," he kept his tone light, hoping Alexis couldn't hear Beckett's side of the conversation through the phone.

"Would you stop calling me that?"

"What?"

"Dear Detective."

"I call you that all the time. Never complained before."

"Yeah, well…I'm complaining now."

"Touchy, touchy. You're good over there? Where are you at?"

"I'm staying at a little hotel a bit outside Portland. Call me tomorrow and I'll update you on the case. I don't want to talk about it with Alexis there."

Castle was dying to talk to her more. Not just to hear the apparent update on the case, but to simply hear her voice in his ear. But now was not the time.

"Okay. I'll call you tomorrow." He paused and debated the wisdom of his next words. "I miss you, my Not-So-Dear Detective."

He could almost hear her rolling her eyes. He definitely could hear the smile in her voice.

"Yeah, miss you too my Nearly Intolerable Writer."

She hung up with the words and he felt a small smile lifting the corners of his lips. _Nearly intolerable? Not a great review. But she'd said 'my'. _He knew she probably didn't mean much from it, but it was the first time she'd ever implied that he was hers. And that was a victory. He _was_ hers.

Setting the phone back on the nightstand he tilted his chin so he could see Alexis. Her eyes were open and she was staring at the closed door of the bedroom.

"You sure you don't want me to read to you?"

"Dad, you should go back to Kate."

He was stunned into silence for a minute.

"I'm sorry, what do you mean?"

She rose up from her position on his chest to look down at him.

"I think you need to go back to wherever Kate is. I think you need to be with her for this. I can see it in your face. You want to be there."

"Sweetie." He rose up from his position too, to be even with her steady gaze. "It's not a question. I stay with you. I choose you."

Her hand lifted up to trace the lines at his eyes and then she simply held his face.

"You picked me over her eleven times and she's got ten scars to prove it. That's not what this is about. This isn't about choosing, Dad. This is about you being where you need to be. Where_ I_ need you to be. You don't have to choose between us anymore or ever again. Go to her. Help her. Arrest him and put him away for life."

He looked down at her red bedspread, unwilling to meet her eyes. He couldn't leave her. No matter how much he wanted to be with Kate, he needed to be here for his daughter.

"Dad." She drew his eyes up with her voice alone. "I've got to start healing soon. And this…this is too hard for me to do with you here. I need you to be with Kate. I need you to be where you want to be. We can set up a therapy appointment tomorrow morning with the best in the city and I promise to go and I promise to start talking about…everything with someone. But that someone can't be you. Tyson is still out there and Kate is all alone across the country. You've_ already_ saved me. You've already made me safe. The rest of the healing is up to me. But Kate…Kate needs you."

She watched as the worry spread through her father's features. She knew all of this would be hard for him to hear, but it had to be said. She needed him to leave so he could start to heal as well. He wouldn't heal here.

"Dad, Tyson's not going to quit. He wants to hurt you more than ever now. I _know_ it. You have to stop him. No one else will be able to end it. You're the only one who can. He won't show himself for anyone but you, Dad."

He thought of Kate's hand on the glass of his shower. He thought of the way she had looked at those little white flowers. He thought of the way his shirt had smelled like her and him together when she'd given it back to him. He thought of her alone, fighting a battle that was half his. He nodded before he knew he was nodding.

"Okay."

"Okay?"

"Okay." He looked sternly at her. "But not before I get you set up in therapy. And hire some security. And you will be sleeping with Grams."

"Really, Dad?"

"Really. Not optional. Same room. And no answering the door or standing near windows or—"

"Leaving camps with strangers?'

"That's not funny, Alexis."

"It's a little funny."

"Go to sleep before I change my mind and stay."

Lying back on the bed together, he flicked off the lamp with one long, extended arm.

"Goodnight, Sweetie. This will all get better soon. I promise."

There was silence for a while before he felt her basically breathe into the fabric of his shirt, "Not until you stop him."

* * *

><p><em>AN: For those of you who think Alexis is out of character because she isn't reacting to the kidnapping, reread because she is. I'm just not being obvious about it._

_For anyone who thinks Rick wouldn't leave Alexis after just getting her back, I agree that perhaps he might not. But he loves Kate too and right now Alexis is safe and Kate isn't. Plus, I think he REALLY wants to get Tyson. _

_The next chapter should be coming a bit faster than this one did. Reviews will help it along._


	36. Chapter 36

_Previously in Apples & Cherries…Rick found Kate's name and handprint and ached for her. Kate called him hers. Alexis wants her dad to be with Kate and catch Tyson. He's leaving after he gets her settled in._

* * *

><p><span>Chapter Thirty-Six:<span>

He parked his car in the tiny parking lot of the hotel and noticed the few other cars here were unmarked police vehicles. He wondered which one Kate had arrived in. Stepping out of the door, his foot hit the rough pavement and the gravel scratched with each step he took.

_Room 21. The cottage._

He walked past around the porch of the main building, the long and wild seashore grass hitting him at the knee and dropping its seeds into the fabric of his jeans in a biological impulse to spread even further. It waved in the wind coming in off the water and the rustling shush sounded so much like a gentle sea, he wouldn't have known the difference.

His heart was beating frantically in his chest as he rounded the building and planted his foot on the first stair to the cottage. She knew he was coming; he'd called her this morning after setting up Alexis' appointment and security from the airport. The call had not gone according to plan. She hadn't been happy.

…

"_Beckett."_

"_Hey. It's me."_

"_I know, Castle. I've got caller-ID."_

"_Then why'd you answer in your Detective-voice?"_

_She sighed heavily, "Habit I guess. I should probably lose that."_

"_Agreed. I prefer to be greeted with 'Hello, sexy' or 'Guess what I'm wearing?'"_

"_Wow. Yeah. That's not going to happen."_

"_Worth a shot."_

_There was a brief silence following the obligatory phone banter._

"_So, what did you call for?"_

"_I'm flying back into Portland and I'll land in about 7 hours. I'm at the airport now. Could you tell me the address of your hotel?"_

"_I'm sorry. I must have heard you wrong. You are doing _what_?"_

"_Flying back to you."_

"_No. No you are not."_

"_It's a done deal. I'm coming."_

"_No—"_

"_Kate! I'm coming. This is non-negotiable. You have no say."_

_That perhaps was not the best route to take with Kate Beckett._

"_No say? Oh, I have plenty of things I won't be saying to you, Castle. One of which will be the name of my hotel."_

"_Doesn't matter. I'll find you anyway."_

"_Castle. What about Alexis? You can't just…leave. What are you doing?"_

"_I need to be with you. Alexis needs to heal in her own way and this is what she wants. She wants me to help you catch Tyson."_

"_She's sixteen, Rick! And fresh from a nightmare! You can't just leave her because she says it's what she wants."_

_His tone was sharp when he answered this time. The defensive note was gone and in its place was pure stone. "I didn't_ just_ do anything. I know my daughter. And I know you. And I know Tyson. I've taken it all into account and you are where I need to be."_

"_Castle…"_

"_Where is your hotel?"_

"_Castle, it's too dangerous. You just got—"_

"_If you're there, I'm there. Where is your hotel?"_

_She breathed into the phone "China Beach Retreat in Ilwaco. I'm in the cottage. Room 21."_

"_I'll be there in a few hours."_

"_Castle, please don't…this isn't…"_

"_My flight is boarding. Catch me up on the case when I get there."_

…

He knocked, having no idea what to expect when she answered. Was this how she had felt a few days ago, knocking on his door, seeking him out even after their last words had been in a fight? On the flight, he'd thought of a million arguments to hit her with in case she tried to send him home or exclude him. He had a right to be there. He had a right to need her.

A soft twilight was setting over the world and the pale stars were flickering into existence. He heard her footsteps on the other side of the door and he snapped his eyes back from the sky. The curtain in front of the glass door was shifted aside and he saw her face peek through and confirm his identity before the door swung open slowly.

"So you came."

"I did."

"Even though I told you no."

"You also told me the name of the hotel. Mixed messages."

"You should really go home."

"Too late for that. Can I come in?"

She stepped aside and he walked by her and into the cottage while she shut and locked the door behind her. He noticed the gun in her hand before she tucked it into the back of her tight jeans.

"Nice place."

"Only place they had left after the police and FBI booked all the other rooms."

"They didn't book one for you?"

"I'm not technically consulting or acting in an official capacity, so I'm not really included in the budget."

"Why don't they make you official?"

"Doesn't matter, does it? I'm here." She was avoiding eye contact and he wanted to push her on the subject but held back. Tyson first.

"Okay, so fill me in. Why are we in a random fishing town, hours outside Portland?"

"Well after the dogs picked up his scent disappearing into the Willamette, they immediately put out more eyes on boats and traffic up and down the river."

"Right. He could have hitched a ride like a barnacle."

"Exactly."

"So he managed to not drown in his condition?"

"Apparently. We aren't positive. A fisherman called in yesterday after you left and reported some blood that he found on his boat and a few things missing."

"Like what?"

"Cell phone. Fishing line. Rope. Food."

"That could be Tyson."

"They're testing the blood, we've got a fast track to results now that the FBI is officially in. He's been crossing state borders."

"Right. So he's somewhere in this town. It's not that big. How hard could it be to find him? They've got the dogs on it?"

"Yeah. They can't seem to stick a trail though. They were crazy on the boat, but can't seem to catch much on land. He's being really careful, Castle. Doing what he does best. Disappearing."

"He can't hide forever."

She rose from the buttery leather chair she'd sat in.

"Do you want tea or something?"

She looked…rattled. Her eyes were refusing to rest on any one object for too long hopping around like black houseflies. She wasn't nervous about Tyson—that wouldn't be like her at all. She was jittery about something else and he couldn't quite put his finger on it.

"Why don't you start the tea and I'll just put my bag upstairs?"

She wasn't really paying attention.

"Yeah. Sure. Fine."

He grabbed the brown bag and made his way up the wooden stairs. They creaked with each step of ascent, but were finely finished and polished. This cottage wasn't cheap. He knew good woodwork when he saw it. Turning left at the top of the stairs, he found himself in the bedroom. Kate's bag was already on the floor and the bed was unmade.

He turned around at the doorway and went back in the opposite direction in search of the second bedroom. As much as he would love to fall asleep with her in his arms yet again, he didn't want to make assumptions that would make her uncomfortable. This limbo they had parked themselves in was delicate and he had no desire to send them shuttling back to the way things were before. He liked being able to call her Kate and feeling all the little touches she'd been placing on his arms lately. That was something he was unwilling to sacrifice. The place was huge, there was sure to be another bed.

He came to the door that sat at the end of the hall to the right of the stairs and opened it. A tiny closet.

_Was there only one bedroom here?_

He turned around and went back into the room Kate had already claimed, looking at the space. There was a couch against the window. He could sleep on that. Throwing his bag on the floor by the sofa, he snagged the unused pillow of the king-sized bed and threw it against one of the armrests. Taking the throw blanket from the foot of the bed as well, he folded it on top of the pillow. That would do. Kate would see that he wasn't assuming anything and maybe feel more comfortable with his presence.

He turned to leave the room, but something caught his eye. A flash of green against the pure white of the pillow. Walking toward the bed, he couldn't help but let a smile blossom as he saw the Bleeding Hearts resting gently against the linen. The white flowers were wilting slightly, but hadn't been crushed at all; she'd handled them with care.

He let one finger run along one of the flowers and tried not to think about the fact that she'd slept with them at her side.

Leaving them and the bedroom, he made his way downstairs to find Kate pouring the hot water into mugs.

He grabbed his when she was done and took a sip. It was good and earthy. He looked up to watch Kate sip distractedly at her own. Why was she so distant? They needed to get out in the air. He needed to get her out in the air.

"Let's forget the tea. Go for a walk with me?"

"What?" She refocused her eyes and let them connect with his.

He grabbed her tea and then the crook of her arm to tug it before letting go. "Come on. We're going for a walk."

He led the way out the front door and was met with a chilled wind. Walking down a few of the steps he turned his head to check on her. She was following him.

* * *

><p><em>AN: Two days of posts in a row? Wow! It's like the good old days over here!_ _Anyway. Not much to say about this chapter. Hopefully you guys do, though. Who thinks they know where I'm going with this story? I'll be really impressed if any of you guess correctly. Maybe even give you a prize._

_Oh, and if your review is still posted (I deleted the evil ones), then it wasn't one of the negative ones I was talking about last chapter. So don't worry about it if you gave me some criticism. That's not what I was referring to._


	37. Chapter 37

_Previously in Apples & Cherries…Rick showed up in Ilwaco, WA where Kate, the police, the FBI, and Tyson are. Beckett's acting funny and Castle decides to take her on a walk._

* * *

><p><span>Chapter Thirty-Seven:<span>

It was far from silent as they made their way. Somewhere in the brush, a killdeer heralded its never-ending message to the deaf ears of nature while a warbler sang a duet with a mockingbird. The wind detangled as it flew gently through the comb of the grass, rippling it in the rapidly dimming light.

Castle lifted his knees high to avoid the impeding mesh of grass root as he made his way to the shore. With each step, he flattened the long grass under his foot, making a waxy, shining path for Kate to follow in. Their steps and their breaths were the only sounds they made as they walked single file, to the edge of the grass.

There was a small dip where the grass met the sand and Castle turned sideways to drop his foot down the step. He turned to Kate, not intending to help, but simply to watch. Just in case. She hopped off the edge with both feet and landed without trouble in the dark grey sand and furrowed her eyebrows at Castle's raised ones.

"I'm sorry. Was that not dainty enough?"

He shook his head. "No. It was fine."

The beach wasn't really a "beach". They weren't directly in contact with the ocean and the water that they looked out at was actually the mouth of the Columbia as it emptied into the Pacific. But there was sand and driftwood and little waves that rolled in to lave the shore.

Castle hadn't had a specific plan when he'd taken Kate out of the house. He'd merely wanted to make that distant look on her face disappear. They walked side by side towards the salted river water and he couldn't help but slip his hand onto her lower back. He hadn't felt her in a full day and now that he knew what it was like to be able to touch her whenever he wanted, he never wanted to stop touching her.

She didn't pull away in a vie for independence, but she didn't lean into it for support either. They merely kept walking side by side towards the slate waters. Once the sand turned damp under their feet, Kate was the first to slip off her shoes. She bent over to roll the hems of her jeans just slightly above her ankles. Castle followed suit, but quickly observed that his ankles looked far less attractive than hers when exposed.

She moved forward into that special little area of the shore where she was neither committed to becoming completely wet, but also bound to have her feet tickled by a wave or two. Castle followed her there and delighted in the small waves that rolled in to play with his toes. No matter how infrequent or how little they were, he always got a little thrill when the freezing water came up to meet him.

He turned to watch her profile as she stared out at the horizon. Her hair was down and being lifted lightly in the nippy wind, the tip of her nose slightly red from the cold. The sun was already beneath the water and a navy sky had started to dawn behind them, blending to lavender where it hit the water. He reached out to tuck one of her flying strands of hair behind her ear and she turned to grace him with a small closed lipped smile before looking back out at the water.

"It's difficult to imagine this world can be so hard."

He didn't have a response; he knew she wasn't looking for one. She slipped her cold hand into his after a moment and ran her thumb absently against his own.

"Everything is so quiet and slow and soft. Sometimes it surprises me that they can exist together. The hard and the soft."

He still said nothing but he looked at their hands and watched as her thumb made its tiny journey up and down, up and down. She had goosebumps.

"Are you cold?"

"A little."

He took his hand from hers and removed his jacket, giving it to her.

"Here."

"Castle, I don't need your jacket. _You'll _get cold."

"Just take it. I'm going to run inside really quick."

He didn't give her a chance to argue as he ran off towards the cottage again, following the trail they had already blazed. Once inside, he went straight to the kitchen and fumbled through the drawers searching for a little box. Finding it near the stove, he swiped it into his hand and dashed back into the evening air.

He could see her figure as he approached and his feet stopped running. She stood so tall against the grays and purples and blues of the beach. Her back was to him and her hair was flying, divining the coming winds as they blew in from the ocean. She looked alone, but not tragically so. She was something that was born to stand against the elements, but somehow became one of them.

The jacket was still draped over her arm and she couldn't have moved an inch since he'd left. He was at her side before he knew his feet had carried him there.

"Hey."

"Hey."

He took the jacket from her arm and set it over her shoulders. Dusk was fading fast as the moon chased the sun's remaining light from the sky. Everything was cast in navy now and it was harder to see her. He laced his fingers with hers and pulled her backwards slightly, away from the cold, lapping waters.

"Come here."

She followed him as her led her back towards the rampart of driftwood. She sat down on a long, fat trunk but he stayed to gather smaller pieces and stack them like a teepee.

"Are you building us a fort, Rick?"

He couldn't see the smile, but he could hear it. He knew exactly which one it was and he couldn't help but smile back. Taking out the box of matches from the kitchen, he shielded it from the wind sweeping in and lit one, letting it light up his face.

"Me Rick. Me make fire."

This time she laughed and he threw the match on the pile of dead grass and smaller bits of wood that he'd stuffed in the center. It went up in flames and soon the teepee of driftwood was crackling and glowing. He sat on the log next to her so their thighs brushed.

"It's a good fire. Your ancestors would be proud."

"I like to think so."

They sat in silence and he watched the flames cast their dancing light on her face. Her eyes were closed and he felt a certain bravery and liberation in being able to drink in her every feature without being caught. He ran his hand over the old trunk that had floated in. It was soft, almost polished. It made him want to hold her hand again. So he did.

His eyes roamed her face, trying to piece together her mood and hoping for a little insight to her far-away behavior.

"Stop analyzing me." She didn't turn or open her eyes, but somehow she knew.

"What are you thinking about?" he asked, craving to understand her. She paused and breathed slowly in and out. Peaceful.

"The sounds. The water and the fire and the wind almost sound like a song. Elemental."

She didn't sound like Beckett. She didn't really sound like Kate either. Her voice was soft and reverent and intoxicating. She was poetic. He wondered what part of her was speaking right now and where it hid on other days.

He closed his eyes and tried to hear the song too. All he could hear was her breathing.

"Dance with me?"

"No, Castle. It's not an actual song. Just…a song."

"I can't dance with you to a non-song song?"

"Shhhh. You're ruining my favorite part." She was smiling with her lips now, teasing him. Refusing to dance to a song that only existed to her ears. She finally opened her eyes and glanced over at him, firelight and life dancing in her eyes.

Suddenly he could hear the music. And it was everywhere.

"Dance with me, please."

Maybe it was the tone of his voice. Maybe it was the need in his eyes. Maybe it was the stars finally aligning in their favor. He didn't really care because she slowly nodded and dipped her head down in that wonderfully shy way that brought her hair to her cheeks.

He stood almost too eagerly and pulled her up with him. His stomach had erupted in a flurry of nerves and he was well aware of the line they were crossing. Or maybe they'd already crossed it a long time ago and now they were simply accepting it.

He put his free hand low on her waist and lifted the hand he'd already been holding to rest on his chest. Her arm lifted and settled against his neck. She let out a little nervous laugh and he smiled back at her, not trusting his voice to make a joke. He started to sway, taking little steps in the sand, trying to find the rhythm in the song around them. It wasn't too hard. His heart was keeping tempo for him.

"I've never danced without music before."

"You were the one who could hear the song."

She smiled and rolled her eyes, "_Figurative_ song."

"Well, here." He dropped his hand from her waist and dug in his pocket for his iPhone. "Let me get us a real song for our first dance."

"It's not our first dance."

"Shhh. Don't ruin the moment with your memory."

He flicked through his music until he landed on the song he was looking for. The sound of a trumpet blared tinny from the tiny speaker of his phone. He knew she immediately recognized the song because her eyes shot to his and looked at him, slightly awed and questioning.

"Oh, do you know this song, Detective?"

He didn't miss the slight falter of her smile, but it was replaced quickly with that smile she gave him when he was being sweet.

"It's my favorite. How'd you know?"

"You hum it when you're happy."

She shook her head and let it fall to his shoulder with a slight thump.

"Do I?"

"You do."

She hummed noncommittally into his neck and he was sure he'd never been more in love with her than that exact moment.

He slipped the phone into his front pocket, speaker up so that they could still hear it and then slid his hand around her waist again managing to pull her a little bit closer. When he felt the warmth of her chest meet his, a small vibration droned against his neck and he listened as Kate Beckett began humming along to the song.

He smiled into her hair and prayed she wouldn't stop humming.

She did.

Her hum was fluid in its transition to a word. She was singing softly in his ear.

_Stars shining up above you_

_Night breezes seem to whisper, "I love you"_

_Birds singing in the sycamore trees_

_Dream a little dream of me_

Her voice was like honey cloaked in smoke. It filled his ears and he found himself wishing it would never leave. He was surrounded by her. Her voice, her arms, her scent. Everything.

He tilted his face in so that his nose and lips were pressed against her windblown hair. He was so in love with her. The song ended but he refused to let her go. He kept them swaying, back again to the song of the grass and the sea and his heart.

He held her close, thanking whatever had allowed this moment to happen. Whispering quietly against her temple, his lips brushed the soft skin and fine hair.

"How are you able to be here? Doing this?"

He felt her take a deep breath and there was a long silence. He could almost hear her internal debate. Something about the firelight and the darkness and the warm reassurance of his arms seemed to finally allow her to answer.

She spoke it softly into his neck like a secret that was finally lifting itself out of her.

"I quit. I left so I could follow you. I'm not a detective anymore."

The song around them stopped and he couldn't hear anything but the echo of her words.

Their gentle sway stopped as well and he tried to pull back to look at her. She resisted, staying buried in his neck, pleading with his body to keep dancing, to forget her words and go back to the gentle back and forth of their bodies.

"Kate."

His voice was hoarse and he knew she would probably have trouble hearing it over the crackle of the fire.

She pulled away, but wouldn't meet his eyes.

"It was the only way to get to you. It was the only way I could help. There wasn't time to convince them all of something I had no proof of. I had to do it. I had to follow you."

"So you quit."

"I quit."

"For me."

"For you."

He exhaled heavily. Trying to process. He was searching her face but it was tilted down. She'd quit for him. Left everything she knew to follow him on a vague clue he'd left stabbed to an apple. After he'd stormed away from her in his apartment and left her to find her way back home in a giant T-shirt and little shorts with heels. Oh god. She'd quit for him. His mind wasn't sure which one of the words it should stress. Each was worthy. _She'd. Quit. _For_ him._

A tidal wave of gratitude swept through his system and his hands withdrew from her body. He pulled her face into his hands.

"Thank you."

_It wasn't enough. What would be enough? Nothing._

She shook her head and let her eyes fall downward again.

"Look at me."

She didn't.

"Please. I want to see your eyes."

She couldn't resist that desperate note in his voice. The one that was telling her far more than it should.

"You." He seemed to lose his words and he shook his head at the stars, trying to make them form the sentences his heart was screaming. She waited for him to find them.

"You are _so_ much more than a Detective. You are so much more than that to the world. To me, Kate."

He took a deep breath and let his eyes fall back down from their skyward gaze, finding the firelight in hers. He couldn't help the small smile that accompanied his next words.

"I love you."

He took a moment to watch the subtle drop of her mouth, the tiny, disbelieving lift of her eyebrows.

"I do. And I should have said it before. I should have said it a million moments before this one, but this is the one. I pick this one. I love you. You need to know it."

She put her hands on his forearms and pulled herself to him, chest to his chest. And in the same fluid moment, she was kissing him. Kissing him for coming back. Kissing him for picking this moment.

Kissing him for loving her.

He felt the soft slide of her lips on his and he let his hands fall from her face to wrap tightly around her body, underneath his jacket. Hers went around his neck and they seemed to simply cling to each other, hard and soft at the same time. They needed each other. Needed hands. Needed lips. Needed tongues. Needed hearts. It was so much and not enough at the same time. Nothing would ever be enough; they would never stop needing.

He heard her moan into his mouth and it was lightning and thunder to his soul. Terrifying. Wonderful. He wanted her to do it again. He moved his hands to her sides and filled his palms with the heat of her. Her hands were threading upwards through his hair and he could feel the occasional tense of her fingernails against his scalp. She was losing herself too. He tore his lips from hers to start a journey of slow, hot kisses to her jaw.

"Kate," he practically sighed into her ear.

"Say it again." She was breathing heavily and he could feel the rise and fall of her chest against his own.

"Kate."

"No. Tell me you love me."

"I do. I love you." He pressed kisses to her jaw and then her temple and then her ear. "I love you. I love you. I _love _you."

She kissed her way across his face as she pulled him back to her lips. Meeting him with an open mouth, she kissed him fervently, pressing herself into him. She twisted her body and leaned backwards, pushing down on his shoulder. She clung to him, gifting him her full weight and urged him to follow her into the sand. He lowered her gently to the ground, trying to keep his lips connected with hers, trying to keep the warmth of their bodies pressed together.

He felt the freezing sand under his palm as he planted it next to her head to support his weight. She pulled him down further into herself with her arms and legs, wrapping them around him. Her tongue was hot in his mouth and he couldn't help but touch it with his own. She tasted amazing. Like sex and wine and rain. Her thighs tightened around him and he pulled back from the kiss, eyes closed, breathing heavily.

"Rick."

"Hang on."

"Kiss me again."

He forfeited his control and surrendered to the demands of the woman beneath him. When she nipped, he laved. When she sighed, he moaned. When she arched, he rocked. It was endless and it was everything. He rolled them so he'd be the one pressed into the cold sand and she shrugged out of the jacket.

"I'm not cold anymore." She lifted her eyebrow at him, balled up the unnecessary coat, and put it under his head for a pillow.

"How considerate of you."

She planted her knee to the other side of him and straddled his hips. "I aim to please."

"Oh my god. You're going to kill me, aren't you?"

She only smiled in response. Tossing her wild hair over her shoulder, she leaned down with a smirk and then whispered against his lips.

"You like it."

And then she was kissing him again. His hands found their home on her waist and he held her above him, trying valiantly not to roll her over again and just take her right there in the sand by the firelight.

"We have to stop."

"What? Why?" Her lips were red and swollen and he couldn't help but kiss them, just because he could.

"Because I am dangerously close to losing it. And I want to have you in a bed. Indoors. Without the sand and the freezing cold wind."

"Have me?" Her voice had lost that breathy quality and he backtracked.

"Oh. Um. You know. When that happens—_If _that happens. Just…in a bed. I want it in a bed."

She rolled her eyes and then leaned over him, nipping at his jaw and then pulling his lower lip between her teeth.

"You don't want it here? Out on the sand? They're playing our song."

He closed his eyes to hear the grass and the fire and the waves. It was nice. And she was so warm above him…

"I…I…"

"Oh, don't hurt yourself, Castle. Let's just go inside."

He swallowed thickly. "'Kay."

They rose and brushed the sand from their clothes. He ran towards the water, suddenly freezing in the night air without her warmth around him, and grabbed their shoes. She was waiting for him by the remains of the fire. She'd kicked enough sand on it to put out all but the hottest dying embers.

He gave her a dopey smile and she held her hand out to him so they could weave their fingers together as they walked back to the cottage.

* * *

><p><em>AN: I took liberties with the beach. Forgive me Ilwaco natives or those who really care about it. Longest beach make out ever written? Yes. Yes it is. Sorry if it got tedious to read. I just couldn't stop writing it. Months of writing only angst will do that to you._

_I'm expecting a veritable flood of reviews for finally getting three things checked off the list of your demands. He knows she quit. He professed his love. They kissed._

_If you liked any of those things on the checklist, tell me in a review (please). And be specific (please)._


	38. Chapter 38

_Previously in Apples & Cherries…She told him she quit. He told her he loves her. They kissed. On a beach. This picks up EXACTLY where the last chapter left off._

* * *

><p><span>Chapter Thirty-Eight:<span>

"You're really good at that, you know."

"What?"

"Kissing. You're_ really_ good at kissing.

"Am I? Hmm."

He let the pause last as long as he could.

"Aaaand…?"

"Oh. Um, I guess you're okay at it." She was fighting a smile.

"Okay? Just _okay_?" He broke into a run, dragging her behind him as they finished off the last of the distance to the cottage. Reaching the porch, he spun her into his arms as she laughed wildly. Bending his head, he kissed her the way he'd always imagined he would one day: full on, passion-filled, back-bending, all-or-nothing.

When he pulled away, her eyes were heavy and she seemed reluctant to open them.

"Still just okay?"

"Better."

"How much better?"

"Best."

He smiled and then let her go, watching with amusement and pride as her knees faltered a bit without his support. Opening the door, he ushered her in, searching the walls for a light switch but finding none. Despite the darkness, it really wasn't all that late as they slowly walked through the foyer of the cottage to the stairs.

She hit the stairs first and climbed the first one before turning around and blocking his path. She reached for his hand that held the banister and then leaned slowly forward until her lips met his, kissing him with torturous tenderness. Her lips merely brushed his a few times. Small, light, gentle kisses that had him leaning so far forward he had to but one of his feet up on her stair before he fell.

She took a corresponding step backwards, smiling softly as she kissed him again. He brought his other hand up to her hip to try and slow her progression upward, but it was no use. She simply had to pull her head back a bit and he followed the movement up. Each step was awarded its own slow kiss until they finally reached the top where she simply turned and led him with their joined hands into the bedroom.

"I see you've already made yourself at home in here."

"There was only one bedroom. Right?"

She smiled. "Yeah."

"Which, really, is sort of silly. This place is huge. What if you had kids? Where would they sleep? I bet if they just knocked out that bathroom under the stairs they could make a nice second room and then families could—"

"Castle?"

"Yeah?"

"You're rambling." She was smiling at him with her eyebrows raised and before he knew it, she was leaning closer. Her lips met his in a perfect kiss that ended all to soon. "Don't be nervous."

"I—I'm not nervous."

"Mmhm."

She walked away to the bathroom and he watched as she loaded up her toothbrush with paste and started to brush her teeth.

"You gonna get ready too?" She asked after she spit into the sink. He realized he'd just been standing there watching her.

"Yeah." He pulled his toothbrush out of his bag (which was blessedly more full of necessary items than it had been last time) and made his way to the bathroom to brush alongside her. The bathroom connected to the balcony and he could see the silhouette of what looked like a hot tub.

"Wow. This place is kind of cool."

"It's nice. Wish I was here for vacation and not Tyson."

"Right." He'd forgotten Tyson. Kissing Kate could do that to a person. "Well maybe we could come back another time. You know…when he's gone."

"Maybe."

He brushed while she removed her makeup and washed her face. He watched the whole process in awe and handed her a nice fluffy towel when she was done.

"Thanks."

"Ready for bed?"

"Yeah. Just need to change…"

"Right. Me too. I can change in here and you can have the bedroom if you give me a chance to grab my clothes."

"Okay."

They walked out of the bathroom and he dug around in his bag for one of the soft tees he used for sleeping. Pulling it and a pair of boxers out he turned around to find her right behind him, with a very, _very_ dangerous gleam in her eye.

Grabbing the shirt and boxers from his frozen hands, she tossed them on the bed without turning from him. Running a hand up and down his button up, she pursed her lips.

"I miss the flannel."

"Okay. Only flannel from now on. Done."

She pulled her other hand up and then undid the first of his buttons. She moved slowly to the second, watching her work with careful eyes. His heart had to be beating completely out of his chest. He could actually see each thump shake the fabric of his shirt. She was on the fifth button when she dipped her head sideways and kissed the hollow between his clavicles, not stopping the open mouth kiss there until all seven buttons were gone.

She parted the shirt with her hands and stroked them over his chest to his shoulders until it fell back, catching at his wrists. She didn't try and force it over them, instead drawing her attention back to his broad chest. He took over the sleeves and wiggled his hands out of them, wincing slightly as it rubbed at his rope burn.

She had pulled back to run her fingers lightly across his chest. He didn't realize what she was doing until he felt a slight twinge of pain. She was tracing the red slash across his chest. She bent forward to let her lips follow the trail of her fingers. Her lips touched his skin all the way from his shoulder down through the valley of his chest and around to his waist. She kneeled on the floor to reach the very end of the gash.

"How did you get it? I never asked."

"Tyson. He got me in the theatre with a bit of glass. It doesn't hurt."

He pulled up on the hand that was resting on his abdomen until she rose to eye level with him again.

"You are much braver than people give you credit for."

"It's not bravery if you have to do it."

She leaned in to kiss him softly and he kissed her back.

"You didn't_ have_ to do anything."

"Yes I did. Losing you wasn't an option."

She didn't seem to have anything to say to that, so he simply pulled her lips back to him and continued the sentiment through a kiss. He had his hands under her shirt, skimming along her impossibly smooth skin, and he pulled her shirt over her head in one fluid motion. It made her hair stick up slightly with static electricity and he ran his hands over the soft brown curls to soothe them. It was too tangled from the wind to run his fingers through like he wanted, but he bunched a fistful to keep her lips in place against his own.

He walked her back towards the bed and when her legs hit the edge, he pulled away, quickly turning down the comforter and sheets. She sat on the freshly exposed bed and ran her hands up his stomach and past his chest, to wrap around his neck, pulling him down onto the bed and into a kiss once again.

….

...

She ran her finger up and down his thumb, head propped up by her wrist and smile simply refusing to leave her face. He was staring intently at the curve of her hip as his free hand traced its contour over and over again. She didn't think she'd ever seen him look quite so content, with his eyes calm and his lips curved.

"What are you thinking?" she asked, her voice soft so she wouldn't disturb the quiet of the room.

He sighed and then ran his hand down over her hip to brush against her stomach. "Nothing."

She smiled and leaned forward to kiss his lips quickly. "Don't be evasive."

"I'm not. I'm not really thinking about anything. Just you. How your skin feels."

She rolled her eyes.

"Don't roll your eyes. I'm serious."

"And sappy."

"So?"

She collapsed the arm that had been holding her up and let her head fall against her upper arm so that she was eye level with him.

"So nothing, I guess."

He pushed himself up and over the top of her briefly to grab something off the nightstand. She thought he was going for his cell phone, but when he resettled in his spot, she saw that he was holding her strand of bleeding hearts.

"So you liked these?" He tapped her on the nose lightly with the very end and she wrinkled it in response.

"Yes. They were very…pretty. Thank you."

"I cut them out of some lady's garden box in Portland."

"You stole it?"

"Not really. It's not stealing if they'll grow back, right?"

"It's borderline."

"But they made you smile. Totally worth it."

She smiled again, not meaning to gift him but simply unable to contain it. He was his sweetest when he didn't even realize it. He leaned in and kissed her smile, still not used to the feeling of her lips on his. Still a bit disbelieving.

She was lying on her back, dark hair tumbling wildly over the pillows. The white sheets smelled like fresh laundry and were draped over her slender body, covering her from the waist down. She watched as he took the strand of pearly white flowers and drew a line from her throat, between her breasts and down to her navel. The sensation and the tenderness behind it gave her goosebumps.

Castle's gaze was flickering between her eyes and following the trail of the flowers. He was delighting in her reaction and he bent to place a kiss at the juncture of her neck and shoulder. She reached out to grasp his wrist and stop the blissful torment of the flowers. He moved down her neck to begin kissing the arm that was raised and wrapped above her head. It had been rendered motionless by his attention with the flower, but his lips were placing kisses all along its surface now.

She tilted her neck invitingly, trying to entice him back in that direction, but his focus was undivided and solely on her arm. She brought her free hand to his face and tried to bring him up to her lips, but his head was immoveable. His kisses to her arm didn't stop.

She drew her head back to look at him and realized what he was doing.

"Castle. Castle, stop."

Drawing her arm down, she hid the ten still-red cut marks on the inside of her arm, taking them away from his reach. He wouldn't meet her eyes and started kissing her shoulder instead.

Sitting up, she put a hand to the side of his face to halt him.

"Castle, look at me."

She was met with an overwhelming look of regret and guilt and lamentation. His eyes had lost all the happiness and the cornflower blue seemed almost grey. She couldn't ask him what was wrong. She already knew. But she didn't want to talk about it, either. They didn't talk about those sorts of things.

She leaned in to give him a kiss instead. Tried to put some forgiveness in it. A bit of understanding. Some "it's over now and I don't blame you". His response to her kiss broke her heart. He kissed her back, but it was full of sadness and she realized that maybe the wounds on her arm had left an even deeper wound in him that a kiss simply couldn't fix.

"They don't hurt, Rick. I didn't even remember they were there."

"I don't think I can ever forget." He had gone back to trying to kiss them, but she withdrew her arm again.

"You don't have to forget—I don't think any of us will forget. But…I can't watch you feel guilty about it. It wasn't your fault, Rick."

"I'm the one who picked."

"It wasn't a choice. I know that. You know that. Tyson even knew it."

"It was a choice. I just don't see how you could ever…how you could possibly…"

His voice trailed off and his eyes closed. He drew in a deep breath and placed a soft kiss on her lips, not finishing his sentence.

"What, Castle? How I could possibly forgive you? It's not an issue. I never blamed you in the first place. I'm so glad it wasn't Alexis. I will never look back on that and see you as anything more than a father protecting his daughter. I would never— "

"No. It's not that." He resumed kissing her neck and arm and chest. She couldn't tell if he simply liked the feeling or if he was avoiding eye contact again.

"Then, what—"

"I don't see how you could possibly love me back."

_Oh._

She was silenced. Her mind had stopped forming thoughts.

"I know you didn't say it back. And that's okay. It really is. I understand why. It's just…I love you so much and I hate that you won't be able to feel the same way. How could you? Ten times, Kate. I picked you ten times."

She drew his face to hers forcefully, pressing her lips against his, pushing him onto his back and spreading her body out on top of his.

"That's not why I didn't say it."

She could tell he didn't believe her. She put her hand over his heart and laid her head on his chest next to it, listening to it beat strongly.

"Rick, Alexis is the part of you that I…that I—"

"Shh! Did you hear that?"

She lifted her head off his chest. She hadn't heard anything but his heartbeat.

"No, what?" The panic in his voice had her reaching for the nightstand where she'd shoved Rick's revolver.

She pulled it out and checked the chamber in one quick fluid movement. Sliding out of the bed naked she looked at Castle for an answer.

"Sounded like someone walking in grass. I thought I heard it earlier, but it stopped."

"It's probably just the patrol." Even as she said the words, she was walking to the bathroom with the gun pointed low. "I'll go look from the balcony."

"Kate."

"Stay there, Rick. It's not Tyson, I'm sure, but stay there anyway."

She opened the glass door to the small terrace and her skin was met with a rush of extremely cold air blowing in from the sea. A strand of hair blew across her face and over her lip as she squinted to help her eyes adjust to the darkness outside. The balcony was small enough to clear quickly and she moved to the edge to look out at the vast expanse of grass that was before her.

She couldn't see well in the dark, but she would have been able to see Tyson from this angle. He wasn't there and neither was the patrol. Castle was probably just on edge. She lowered the gun but stayed on the balcony, scanning the surroundings again just in case. She saw a bit of movement along the perimeter of the grass. A dark form, hunched and hiding.

Suddenly, there was a blast of noise through the dark. A blood-curdling scream.

Her gun flew up in front of her as the dark form came hurtling up out of the grass and towards the balcony.

Adrenaline soaring through her bloodstream, she had just enough time to duck before the thing hit her, narrowly avoiding a collision. Her back was pressed against the wood of the balcony floor and she could hear Rick scrambling through the room to get to her. Gun trained on whatever had attacked her, she paused as it screamed again.

_A goose._

_A fucking goose._

She dropped the gun to her side and lay panting on the floor for a minute before standing up, knees shaking slightly. Castle was standing naked in the doorway, obviously ready for battle.

"I'm fine, Rick. It was just a goose."

"Oh my god! I thought…"

He turned around and leaned against the counter of the bathroom with his head in his hands as she approached the villainous goose, attempting to shoo it off the balcony. It was not listening and actually looked like it was looking for a fight. She retreated and locked it outside, coming to rest next to Rick by the sink.

She placed a steady hand on his shaking shoulder. "You okay?"

"Yeah. Heard the scream. Thought he was back."

"With the powers of flight."

He smiled at her and her stomach warmed at the sight. She slipped her hand into his and led him back to bed, flicking out the lights.

"I almost killed that goose."

"He'd have deserved it."

* * *

><p><em>AN: **The "fade to black" M section will be posted shortly** (read: when I finish it) as a separate companion piece. Put me on author alert if you want a notification. I've had a lot of requests to keep the story T, so I'm going to deliver on that rating. But for those of you looking for a little steamy Caskett sex, just go find the M version. _

_Check out my Tumblr (url in my FF bio) for pictures of the cottage at China Beach Retreat. _

_As a side note? I fucking hate geese. It took everything in me not to have Kate shoot it. When I was little, one bit me. And I punched it in the face. My family has video footage._

_Review!_


	39. Chapter 39

_Previously in Apples & Cherries…They had sex. How you could possibly need reminding of this, I am not sure. Also, there was a goose._

* * *

><p><span>Chapter Thirty-Nine:<span>

He tried to walk as quietly as he could through the cottage. He tested each step he took before lending it his full weight, hoping to avoid any creaking of the wooden floorboards and interrupt what were surely sweet dreams. Everything was dark—almost pitch black and he was unfamiliar with the layout of the small house, sticking close to the walls to avoid striking against rogue furniture.

Making his way to the kitchen, he quietly grabbed a mug from the cupboard and put on a kettle of hot water for tea. He'd have to watch it carefully to make sure it never let out its scream of steam. It had been an incredibly long and trying day. His muscles ached already and he leaned his head from side to side, cracking the fragile bones of his neck.

He heard the water start to bubble in the kettle and quickly pulled it off before it whistled. That would be hot enough. He didn't like it scalding anyway. Grabbing a tea bag from the counter, he plopped it into the mug and poured the steaming water over it. It was too dark to tell when the brown of the herbs steeped into the water, so he bounced the bag up and down a few times before taking a sip.

Calming. The heat of the mug felt good on his lip.

He sighed and set the mug on the counter. He didn't have time to drink tea in the kitchen. He needed to be in the bedroom. Pushing himself out of the hard, wooden kitchen chair, he made his way to the stairs and began his ascent. It was slow work, trying to stay silent. His knee was bothering him and he was favoring it as he climbed each step in the dark. Only a few more and he'd be to the bedroom.

The door was open and he stepped through it, heading for the nightstand. The moon was much brighter in here than downstairs. It cast an eerie tone on everything the light touched through the window. White things glowed and dark things were silver-lined charcoal. It was actually nice. He'd always liked the dark. Things were easier in the dark.

Kate was on her stomach, one hand under the pillow and the other stretched out to her side. She really was pretty. He took a moment to watch her back rise and fall with steady breaths, deep in a dream. Her dark hair was splayed across her back and pillow, in untamed swirls. His mind flashed to the image of her with blonde hair and he reached over to lift a strand gently, twirling it between his fingers.

He clenched his fist around the small piece of hair, but then released it, letting it fall back down to join the others. Reaching into his pocket, he withdrew the note and placed it right on the nightstand next to some white flowers. He picked the strand up, bringing it into a beam of moonlight to better see it. Bleeding hearts: how terribly poetic.

Letting his finger flick at one of the dangling flowers, he watched as it oscillated on the very tip. Pinching it between his fingers, he squeezed. Hard. He felt the juices from the flower as they bled onto his fingers and dripped down. Pulling it from the stem, he dropped the crushed little heart onto his note.

Smiling, he pulled another off, relishing in the snap of the petiole. His lip cracked and a bit of blood spilled down his chin. It tickled. He wiped at it. Plucking the last few flowers, he scattered them over the note. His lip was dripping blood onto the glowing white flowers and he thought that Rick might appreciate the depth of that image.

He looked over at the other side of the bed and watched the bare chest of Richard Castle breathe in the night air. He leaned across the bed, his body straining to be closer to the object of his obsession. It would be so easy—_so_ easy to just wrap a rope around his neck as he slept.

But Kate was there. And Kate could fight. And Kate would win.

His visit was merely for mind games. He was in no condition to fight. He wanted them to know they hadn't won—wanted them to know they'd never win. He'd always be there. Always watching. Always one-step ahead. For the rest of their lives, short as that may be.

Peace of mind was a luxury they would never have. His body was broken. His time was limited. But so was theirs. Now was not the time for the kill. _Not yet. Not yet. Not yet._

Rick snorted in his sleep and Tyson limped as silently as possible, disappearing into a corner of the room and letting the shadows paint him black.

The writer sat up in bed and Tyson held his breath, his ribs searing in pain. Rick rubbed a hand over his face, pressing into his eyes before turning his head to the side. Tyson watched the man's face as took in the sleeping brunette at his side. The moon reflected off her back in a shining sheet of light and Rick reached his fingers out to trace along her spine as she slept.

He bent over and placed a kiss between her shoulder blades. It was an intimate moment and Tyson enjoyed his surreptitious and unrecognized interruption. He liked seeing the private facets of the relationship he would soon break. As soon as he could manage it, he'd rip everything away.

Castle let himself settle back onto the bed, now with his arm resting over Beckett's back. Tyson waited in his corner, watching. He breathed only when necessary. He moved nary an inch for fifteen minutes. Once he was sure that Rick Castle and his partner were again deep in sleep, he moved from his curtain of darkness.

One foot first, then the other dragged. Step, drag. Step, drag. Step, drag. He was quiet. He was careful. He was a ghost.

* * *

><p><em>AN: Ok. I'm curious. Thoughts? Did I trick you into thinking it was Castle in the beginning? Are you thoroughly creeped out? Confused out of your minds? TELL ME._

_(I waited until dark to post this chapter. It just felt right.)_


	40. Chapter 40

_Previously in Apples and Cherries…Tyson snuck into the cottage, watched them sleep, ripped up the bleeding hearts, left a note, and then creeped on out._

* * *

><p><span>Chapter Forty:<span>

Soft light filtered in through the window of the cottage. The sheer drapes that framed the glass seemed to shimmer in the morning sun and Kate blinked her eyes slowly, letting them adjust. She could feel the heavy presence of Rick's arm thrown over her back and she turned over so that she could see his face.

A smile set onto her features as she watched him sleep for a moment. He was breathing gently through his nose and his lips had a little pout that puckered them out. It was slightly adorable. Reaching out with a curious finger, she brushed over his lip and smiled at his dead-to-the-world lack of reaction. Moving her hand up she fingered the thick curtain of bangs that fell over his forehead. He had soft hair. She liked it when it fell in his face like this.

Running her fingers through the rest of his hair, she relished in the sleepy warmth of it. He didn't open his eyes, but she knew the moment he woke up because his lips quirked up in a pleased smile. She thought he might purr with that look on his face. She leaned in to kiss him.

Their lips touched perfectly. Comfortably. Sleepily.

"Morning," she whispered against him.

"Good morning, Kate."

He moved the arm that was lying across her so that his hand could slide up and down her stomach. He used his fingertips to give her goosebumps and then soothed them away. She realized that they were both smiling like idiots, which only made her smile wider. She raised herself up and then crawled over the top of him so that her naked body was pressed along his, her chin resting on his chest. He scooted up on the pillows so that he could get a better look at her.

Pushing a strand of hair behind her ear, he ran a finger along her cheekbone and then tugged at her ear.

"I'm getting all kinds of inspiration right now."

"If I recognize one single moment of this in your next book, I swear you won't be getting any more_ inspiration_ from me any time soon."

He laughed and she felt it rumble from his chest into hers. Placing a few idle kisses along his scar, she quirked an eyebrow up.

"I was thinking more along the lines of Nikki Heat in a battle to the death with a goose. Naked."

"Is Rook going to stumble in on them, his bits swinging about?"

"Of course not. Rook is far too cool."

"Right, right. Of course he is."

She stretched forward to place a kiss on his chin and then sat up, straddling his hips and letting the white sheet fall behind her onto his thighs. He ran his hands up her legs to hold and rest on her hips, taking in the view.

"Good morning." His smile barely fit on his face.

"We've already done the good morning thing, Rick."

"Well it's an extra good morning. Deserves two greetings."

"What time is it anyway?"

"I dunno. Probably nine or so."

She leaned over to the side, stretching for his phone on the nightstand to check the actual time. Her hand wrapped around it, but then her eye caught on something bright red and wet. Blood. She snapped back to him quickly, staring at his chest. She ran her hands over his scar, gently, but probingly.

"Rick. Are you bleeding?"

He tucked his chin down and looked.

"No. Why?"

"There's blood on the nightstand."

He sat up, wrapping his arm around her back and letting her legs fold around him. Leaning over to look at the nightstand he swiped a finger in the red stain and then rubbed it with his thumb. She watched as the little furrow between his eyebrows deepened. Then he picked up the stem of her bleeding hearts.

But it was just the stem.

His arm tightened around her and he dropped the stem onto the sheet, picking up what looked like little crumpled bits of paper. He cupped them in his hands to show her.

"Kate. The flowers are crushed."

She tightened the hand that rested against his chest and her fingertips dug into his muscle. The bloodstained flowers fell to the bed as he dropped them and this time she reached over to the nightstand, noticing a tiny scrap of paper. Swallowing the rising tide of adrenaline in her gut, she pulled the paper between them and read the note.

_Come and find me._

It was punctuated with a single, messy drop of blood.

"Oh my god, Rick. He was here. He was here last night."

He snatched the paper out of her hands as she climbed off of him, pulling the revolver from under the pillow and checking the bullets within. She snapped it back into place and then rose from the bed, heading straight for her bag and pulling out clothes.

Rick was still sitting stunned on the bed, staring at the note in disbelief.

"Castle! Get dressed."

He shot out of bed and scrambled to his bag to start throwing on clothes. Kate was already on the phone, talking to what he assumed was the FBI or police.

"We need a team here at the cottage. Tyson got in last night." She nodded and affirmed a few things for the person on the receiving end and then continued. "Might as well bring the dogs. Try and snatch up a trail in the surrounding area."

She answered a few more questions before hanging up and tossing the phone at him.

"Call Alexis. Let her know you're okay and whatever. You might not have time to call her later."

He dialed his daughter, thankful for Kate's foresight.

"Hey, sweetie."

"Hey, Dad. How are you?"

"Fine. It looks like I'm going to have a busy day. We've already caught a strong lead. Just wanted to call and check in. You doin' okay?"

"I just got back from day two of being shrunk. Grams is making sandwiches and soup for lunch."

"Sounds delicious. Can I talk to her fro a sec?"

"Sure. Here."

"Richard? How is everything over there? How is Kate?"

"Kate is fine, mother. Tell me how Alexis is really doing."

"Oh, well, you know Alexis. Strongest girl I know. She'll get through it, dear."

"I need you to give me more than that."

Martha sighed into the phone as Rick finished the line of buttons on his jeans. "Well, Richard, I don't know what you expect me to say. She's as fine as she can be. Keeps staring off into space, but she's talking about it and she's open to healing and what needs to be done. I haven't hardly left her alone for a minute since you left."

"Good. Keep it that way."

"Well…there is one thing. It's not a huge deal, so please don't worry."

His stomach plummeted.

"I took a nap the other day. On accident. We were watching some TV and I just dosed off…"

"Get to the point, mother."

"She…Anne of Green Gabled herself."

"I'm sorry. What?"

"She tried to dye her hair by herself while I was sleeping. It's not so bad…"

"_What?_ What color? Why didn't she let you take her to the stylist?"

"I don't know why, Richard, but I'm sure her therapist will get it out of her. And it's brown. Sort of."

"Sort of?"

"It came out like Detective Beckett's color. But she missed a few pieces and there are a few blonde bits here and there."

Castle slid a hand over his face and thumped back on the bed. Kate kicked his shin and mouthed: _Get off the evidence!_

"Tell me she's not leaving it brown."

"I don't think her hair color is our biggest concern here, dear."

"The hair color is a _symptom _of our concerns. She needs to want red again. Why doesn't she want red?"

There was a knock on the door downstairs followed by the sounds of it being opened and the voices of the investigative team getting to work.

"I've gotta go. I'll call you as soon as I can."

He hung up and gave a shrug at Kate's inquiring look. "I'll tell you later."

They made their way downstairs together, Kate hurriedly tying her hair back as they walked. Walking quickly through the foyer and weaving around several men with evidence bags and cameras, they came to the kitchen. Kate made a beeline for a tall man with a grey mustache and black hair.

"Agent Dawkins."

"Good morning, Beckett. Sleep soundly, I take it?"

She clenched and released her jaw. "Like a baby." Waving a hand towards Castle, she introduced him. "This is Richard Castle. He's—"

"I'm well aware of his involvement with this particular case. It practically revolves around him."

"Pleasure to meet you."

They shook hands perfunctorily and Kate watched as Castle sized the man up, subtlety.

"Agent Dawkins is heading the FBI investigation of the case, Castle."

"I see. Well, the note and the blood is upstairs in the bedroom."

Dawkins flicked two fingers towards a few of his men and they immediately filed up the stairs. He then sat at the kitchen table and motioned for Kate and Rick to follow suit. Castle's leg immediately began to jiggle and Kate resisted the strong urge to nail his heel to the floor. She settled for giving it a dirty look that he caught, effectively stopping the bouncing. Kate reached out to spin the cold mug of tea that sat at the table in her hands.

"So what are we thinking, here, Agent Dawkins? How did he get by the patrol? Think he's still in the area?"

"My guess is he came in through the trees in the back. Harder to spot by any guards, that way. If he kept low enough in the grass, my men wouldn't have been able to spot him."

"Why didn't you have the dogs out here already?" Rick asked.

"We only have so many canine units, Mr. Castle. No matter how small Ilwaco seems, the dogs can't be everywhere at once."

Rick nodded but looked like he had more to say. She watched him try and hold it in and fail miserably

"All due respect, Tyson is targeting me and those that I…those that are close to me. Why were the dogs not on the one person in town who means something to me?"

"They were busy trying to smell him out. His scent wasn't in this area."

"Well, why weren't there more men guarding Kate? She'd already been kidnapped once, were you hoping he'd try and get at her again? Maybe use her as a bit of unwilling bait? Shoulda had your whole damn army on this house."

"Castle!" Kate stood, putting a hand on his shoulder. "Can I talk to you for a second?" She nodded towards Dawkins. "Excuse us for one second, Agent Dawkins."

Castle followed her out to the porch, looking very much like someone who knew they were in trouble but didn't regret it.

"Rick, you've got to calm down. They won't let us help if you're snapping at them."

"I'm not just going to overlook the fact that Tyson got into this house because of_ that guy's_ negligence."

"No. They're doing the best they can. Tyson's hard to catch—you and I know that better than anybody."

He closed the gap between them, glancing down at the arms she had crossed over her stomach. "Kate, what if I hadn't flown in? What if you'd been alone? Tyson wouldn't have even hesitated. He would have—he would have…"

Not able to finish the thought, Castle turned away and stared out at the quiet landscape of the morning. She stepped up next to him and laid a hand on his arm and spoke softly.

"You've got to pull it together. We need to be kept up on this case. It's not going to happen if this is how we handle it."

He turned and pressed his forehead against hers. She breathed with him for a moment, hoping it would help calm him. Help reaffirm her presence—their presence.

"It's just…"

"What, Rick?"

"It's just…that was _our_ night, Kate. Ours. And now we have to share it with him."

Her heart broke a little.

"We don't have to share any of it with him. It's still our night. No one can take it from us. I will never forget it, Rick. And not a minute of it belongs to Tyson."

He leaned forward and closed the inch of space between their lips, kissing her passionately, hurriedly. He broke away before either could lose themselves too far, but returned his forehead to hers.

"I love you, Katherine Beckett."

She smiled and gave his lips a quick, smacking peck.

"And don't worry. We can have a redo of our first morning together."

He smiled. "Yeah?"

"Oh yeah."

He let his palms run up and down her sides, feeling the soft, warm cotton of her shirt beneath his hands. Taking a deep breath, he pulled away from her and exhaled slowly.

"Ok. I'm holding you to that."

Kate made her way towards the door, flipping her hair of her shoulder as she turned back to look at him one more time, a not-quite-teasing glint in her eye.

"Lots and_ lots_ of redos."

Castle groaned. "Now we can add Class A Cockblock to Tyson's stack of charges."

* * *

><p><em>AN: I am having one of those unbearably frustrating author's moments where you know the destination, but not the path._


	41. Chapter 41

_Previously in Apples & Cherries…The morning after started out cute and snuggly, but ended up with the FBI coming for breakfast. Tyson is a Class A Cockblock._

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><p><span>Chapter Forty-One:<span>

Kate and Rick sat at the kitchen table until noon, watching the team of agents scour the house for clues as to how Tyson got in, how he got out, and where he went next. They'd quickly found his point of entry. A window near the front door had been jimmied and the hook latch had somehow been undone from the outside. From there, it would have been easy for even the maimed Tyson to get inside and proceed with his mind games.

Castle had burst into only one other fit of disbelief and anger when he had learned that Tyson had gotten in and out on a well-lit patio, right next to the front door, facing the main building of the Retreat, and was in the direct line of sight of where the patrol should have been. He'd quickly silenced himself after one look from Kate reminded him that his words were doing nobody any good.

She silently agreed with him, though. It had been _way_ too easy for Tyson to get at them. Someone wasn't doing their job.

The dogs had found his scent in the area and had paced off quickly into the surrounding woods before they had simply stopped, confused and without a trail near a small brook that flew out to the sea. They'd checked up and down that wandering creek for miles but never picked up the scent again.

Castle wasn't surprised. He'd eluded the dogs before, and he'd keep doing it. They needed a better plan. They needed a proactive plan. They needed to think like Tyson.

He turned to Kate whose hands were still wrapped around that cold mug of tea. She was staring off into space, nibbling at her lip, obviously deep in thought. He fidgeted in his seat enough to draw her out of it and then met her eyes.

"Why'd he come here?" That was the question that had been on both their minds, unspoken until now.

"I don't know, Castle. To mess with us."

"Yes, but why come into the cottage, climb up the stairs, stand by," he swallowed heavily and pushed through the horror of the words, "our bedside, rip the flowers, and leave a note. It was needless and dangerous for him."

"It was." She spun the mug once again and looked down at it, trying to get into the mind of the Triple Killer, but failing to see the logic in his choice. She grabbed the mug and stood, taking it to the sink to wash it. Dumping the tea down the drain and leaning over the basin, she stopped suddenly and set the cup gently down.

"Castle, get an evidence bag."

"What? Why?"

"The mug. Ours are both already in the sink from last night. This isn't ours. It's his."

Castle shot up and looked into the sink alongside her, as if he needed to see it to confirm it.

"He made himself _tea!_"

"Hey! We need an evidence bag over here." She was speaking to an agent who was dusting the doorframe for more prints, a task that seemed incredibly redundant and unnecessary to Castle. The man quickly delivered an evidence bag and Kate slipped the mug in with care, sealing it and directing the man to take it to Dawkins who was currently back in the main building, coordinating roadblocks on the roadways along the border between Oregon and Washington.

Castle was still shaking his head in disbelief when Kate turned back to him. She spoke, her voice mirroring the disbelief in his face.

"I can't _believe_ he made himself tea! What…What was the point of that?"

"Maybe we should stop looking for logic and reason behind his decisions. Clearly he's deranged."

"Clearly."

They leaned up against the counter next to each other, not touching, but close enough.

"You know?" Castle spoke again in a thoughtful voice, "They say geese make better guard dogs than guard dogs. I bet our little feathered visitor last night was just trying to warn us."

"Huh. Maybe. If only I spoke bird…"

He gave her a pleased smile in exchange for her humor.

"Come on. We gotta get out of this house. Let's go out and explore Ilwaco. Grab a bite to eat."

"I'm not really hungry, Castle."

"You haven't eaten a thing since I made that pasta forever ago and I know you didn't eat anything but an apple for days before that. We are grabbing food and it's not up for discussion."

She raised her eyebrow at him, in a challenging glare.

"Ok. It's discussable, but I'm putting my foot down."

The look intensified.

"Ok. It is entirely up to you and I have no say."

She withdrew the glare and slipped her hand into his, rolling her eyes as she pulled him behind her.

"Fine. Let's go scrounge up some lunch."

He let her lead the way out the front door and then walked beside her, still hand in hand as they wrapped around the cottage to follow the dirt path back to the parking lot. Walking beneath the balcony, something small and white caught Kate's eye. She stopped abruptly.

Castle, who had been not so subtly staring at the side of her face, bumped into her shoulder at the sudden lack of movement.

"What?"

She bent over and studied the flower that sat wilting on the ground in the center of a small design drawn into the finely ground sand beneath the balcony.

"It's one of the bleeding hearts."

He crouched down next to her and reached out to pick it up. She slapped his hand away.

"Don't touch it, Rick.

He made a disappointed face, but put his hand back on his knee. The remnants of the single, crushed bleeding heart were resting dead center of the number eight that had been traced onto the ground, right where the two circles met at a single point of intersection.

"Better call the guys out here. They missed this."

"You know, I'm beginning to think we should just fly Ryan and Esposito out here to help us solve this case without the Feds. It's obviously a bit too much for the team that's here."

"Ryan and Esposito have zero jurisdiction out here."

"Well, neither do you and you're here."

"I have zero jurisdiction anywhere, Castle."

"And yet…you are working this case…"

She pushed her shoulder into his and he tottered a bit. "Not officially. I'm just here to lend my expertise. Like a consultant."

"Hmm." He bumped her back with his shoulder. "I still say we call Ryan and Esposito in on this. They'd want to help."

"I'm sure they would. But…Castle, I just left them. Without a word. Not even a goodbye or a why and I haven't talked to them since."

"You haven't called them at all? This whole time?"

She ducked her head in guilt. "No."

Castle could read her face and saw that she really didn't want to talk about the reasons for her lack of communication with the boys. He could tell the reason already; there was no need for her to say what was so clearly radiating out of every pore of her body. She felt guilt for quitting. She felt lost and uncomfortable with the idea of interacting with the job she'd left behind without a second glance.

"Kate, those two would be loyal to you to the ends of the earth—and we're only in Ilwaco. You should call them. Maybe not now, but tonight."

"Maybe."

"You can still fix this. I bet Montgomery just stuffed your resignation in a drawer somewhere and is waiting for you to come back."

She shook her head to his words. "No. That's not how it works in the real world. Once you're out, you're out."

"Maybe if I made some calls…"

"Castle. Let's just take care of this new clue here and talk about this later, okay?"

He frowned and nodded reluctantly. Kate was already dialing Dawkins on the phone and updating him on their find. She turned back to him once she hung up and spoke.

"He'll be here in a second. Any guesses what the eight means?"

"No, but I'll bet you anything it's a message. He's telling us how to find him."

"Why would he do that? Why not just write it on the note he so kindly left on our nightstand?"

"Dunno. The guy's a nutjob. My guess is that he wants us to find him, but not too soon. It's cryptic enough to buy him some time."

"Time we cannot afford to give him."

"So then let's just solve it. Right here, right now." He stood up and stared at the sky. "Eight. Eight. Eight. It's an even number. It's four times two. Six plus two. Square root of 64. Hey! Maybe it's under a square shaped root!"

She looked at him and didn't even bother responding to that particular theory.

"Right. Yeah. That's dumb. Okay so eight is…the month of August. Or maybe it's a distance? Eight steps from here to somewhere else? Like a scavenger hunt?"

"Castle, could you think in your head for now until your theories start shaping into something useful?"

They heard the heavy scrunch of dirt and rocks approaching from around the corner of the house. Dawkins was here and he'd brought a few men with him. They immediately started snapping photos of the flower and the eight

"Good eye, you two." He turned to one of the men not snapping photos. "Bag it and tag it, Kent." And with that, he turned to leave.

Castle called out after him, "Hey, wait. Aren't you guys going to try and figure out what it means?"

"We'll bring it up at the meeting in a few hours. Honestly, it looks to me like just another cryptic piece of crap this guy left behind to mess with you."

"Well obviously that's what it is, but what if it means something a bit more? What if he's telling us how to find him?"

"We'll talk about it at the meeting. We're working a lead right now for the situation in the forest."

"Wait, what lead?" Kate spoke up, yet again halting the big man's retreat.

"One of the items missing on the boat he barnacled in on were heavy rubber waders. We think he put the waders on to hide the scent. Now we've got the dogs following a rubber scent they picked up upstream a ways."

"And you didn't think to _tell_ us this?" Her voice was strained.

"We tell you what you need to know."

This time it was Castle to lay a warning hand on Kate's shoulder, reminding her to back down. Not that there was a point to that. If the feds weren't sharing their information with them in the first place, there was really no reason to hold back the criticisms. They did anyway.

"Okay. Well while you guys are hard at work here, the lady and I will be grabbing some lunch."

Dawkins didn't respond other than a vague nod of the head as he walked off.

"I don't think I like that guy." Castle narrowed his eyes at the man's back.

"We don't have to like him as long as he gets Tyson in the end."

* * *

><p><em>AN: Quite possibly the most boring chapter ever. I apologize. It was necessary to get where we need to go though._

_Who thinks they can crack the clue of the Eight?_


	42. Chapter 42

_Previously in Apples & Cherries…Caskett's gonna grab lunch. There was an 8 drawn in the dirt. Elle (me) embarrassingly messed up the square root math even though she has a ridiculous amount of education under her belt. Elle also started writing chapter 41 before she was ready and is now terrified that the plot will crumble under her own delusions of preparedness. Yay._

_**You might want to reread chapters one and two for a refresher. Up to you.**_

* * *

><p><span>Chapter Forty-Two:<span>

Castle's rental car wound along the coastal road as they made their way toward town. Kate's head was resting against the glass and she was watching the passing of the landscape intently. Castle was struggling to keep his eyes off her and focused on the winding road ahead.

"So…" he started to speak to break the silence in the car. It hadn't been uncomfortable, but he much preferred the sound of her voice than the whine of the tires on the road.

She didn't turn her head towards him, but the corner of her mouth quirked up and she answered. "So…"

"See anything interesting out there?"

"No signs of eights or Tyson, if that's what you mean."

"That's actually not what I meant." He passed his eyes over her quickly and noticed the frustrated mold of her brow. "Is that what you're looking for out there?"

"Not really. Just looking. And thinking."

"What are you thinking about?"

She didn't answer immediately, choosing instead to let her eyes fixate on a large, white and red lighthouse on her side of the car. When she did speak, it was softly.

"Do you think he'll get away again?"

"No."

"Are you just saying that?"

"No."

She lifted her head from the window finally and turned it to look at his profile, searching his features for signs of placation. She found none and perhaps that prompted her next words.

"I should have killed him in that hallway."

Castle looked over and met her eyes briefly. They were filled with a complex composite of regret, anger, and vulnerability. He slowed the car down and pulled off on the shoulder. This was too important to split his attentions.

"What are you doing?" she asked as he threw the car into park and unbuckled his seatbelt.

"Get out of the car."

She looked at him in confusion, but moved to slowly unbuckle herself. He was already halfway out of the car when she reached for her own door handle. He met her on her side of the vehicle and slipped his hand into hers as soon as she was fully out of the car.

"Castle, seriously. What are we doing?"

"Walk with me. I want to talk to you about this and I don't want to do it in a car." She rolled her eyes and opened her mouth to argue but he held his free hand up to stop her. "Just trust me okay?"

"Yeah. Okay." She gave him that close-lipped smile and he knew she'd follow him. Squeezing her hand, he pulled her through the green grass. It wasn't the dry, tangled sea grass that grew by the shore of the China Beach Retreat. It was juicy and green and only rose to mid-shin. He walked just far enough from the car to still see it, but close enough to the rocky river shore that they could see the shining water sparkle in the sun.

"This is good." He bent his knees and sat down in the grass. Still holding her hand, he looked up at her. She cocked an eyebrow at him and he pulled at her arm, trying to get her to sit with him.

"Is it wet?"

"No. Just sit."

She lowered herself to the ground and folded her legs beneath her in a Z, immediately reaching out to pluck at the grass. Castle watched her carefully as she systematically peeled apart a blade. He covered her hand with his and scooted closer to her in the soft grass. Placing his other hand under her chin, he tilted her face to look at him.

"So you regret not killing him." It wasn't a question. He was just trying to pick the conversation up from where they'd left it in the car. She tried to lower her face again and Castle couldn't quite understand what was causing her to act like this. Kate Beckett didn't hide from anything, but right now she seemed to be trying her best to hide from his eyes. The hand that stayed on her chin wouldn't let it dip far enough away and he pulled her back up to look at him.

"I do. I should have killed him in that hallway."

"Maybe." He shrugged. He wouldn't lie to her; this would all be easier if Tyson had died in that warehouse. But they would have also had so many other demons haunting them if she had. "But I should have killed him in that theatre."

"No!"

His eyebrows shot up at her vehement response and she subconsciously tightened her hand around his.

"Castle…I don't want you to kill Tyson."

He looked at her blankly, waiting for her to clarify that statement. She didn't. The chilled afternoon wind picked up off the Columbia and a few more wisps of her chestnut hair escaped from her ponytail to fly madly with the rush.

"Kate, I can't not kill Tyson. The next time I see him, I'm _going_ to kill him. It's a done deal. Why don't you want me to kill him?"

"Rick…" She leaned in closer to him and placed her hand on his chest, pushing him back. He resisted the force at first, but caved and let his back lower to the grass. She followed and he wrapped an arm around her shoulders while she rested hers across his stomach.

"Why can't I kill him? It should be me. It needs to be me."

Sighing heavily into the soft fabric of his shirt, she shook her head.

"No it shouldn't. It doesn't."

"He took Alexis, Kate. He took her and dyed her perfect hair and tied her to a chair and kept her in a dark room for _weeks_. What if she's never the same after this? That's on me."

"How is that on you?"

"He did it to get to me. I pushed his buttons. I played with a serial killer like it was nothing. Like I was invincible. And he took it out on my kid—on my baby. I_ have _to be the one to kill him."

He was toying with a strand of her hair, lifting it, twirling it, dropping it, and then lifting it again. She shifted on his chest to sit up a bit and look into his eyes.

"Just because you want to kill him, doesn't mean you should. In fact, the very fact that you want to kill him so badly makes it that much worse."

"How so?"

"It's murder."

"Is not."

"Yes it is and you know it."

He did know it.

"It's not murder. It's…preemptive self-defense."

"That's thin and the law won't see it that way. If you seek him out and then kill him, it's murder."

"Well, he'll definitely try and kill me when I find him so it won't be preemptive anymore. There."

"Castle, will you listen to me? I don't want you to kill Tyson!"

She was sitting up again, looking down at him with slightly red cheeks and a hand pressing into his chest. He pushed up with his elbows and sat with her to be eye to eye again.

"Will you listen to_ me?_ I have to kill him. I have to do this for me and for Alexis and for…for you!

"For me…Why?"

"He took you too, Kate. I love you and he hurt you and I'm going to kill him for it."

"You can't kill him for me!"

"Why not? I've done it before."

Their eyes locked and both mouths seemed to cease the capability to form words. The grass rustled in sheets and waves and a few gulls screamed protests against the wind. Her eyes were flickering over his every facial feature, as if searching for some sort of answer in the cracks and lines that split his handsome face. His eyes simply stayed glued to hers. Watching as she reacted.

What he didn't expect were the tears. They didn't burst forth and spill down her face, but her eyes became infinitely more green and shiny. He saw a single sphere of a tear form in her right eye before it slowly rolled down her cheek.

"So we're back here, are we?"

"Back where?"

"Here! You just don't seem to understand what it means to kill somebody! You get lost in the romance of it all. You don't understand what it can do to you, what it _will_ do to you."

"And you don't seem to understand what it would do to me if I lost you!"

She was shaking her head and staring pleadingly at the sky. "I just can't believe we are here again. I can't believe I did it again. I let it happen again."

"What are you talking about, Kate?"

He reached for her hand to try and bring her back from the impossibly blue sky and back down to earth with him.

"I let you follow me again. Don't you remember the way all of this started in the first place?"

"Of course I remember! You broke up our partnership and I lost myself in a sea of bitterness."

"Well I did it for good reasons and those reasons still stand. It's too dangerous for you. Especially now. Especially with Tyson.'

"It's not—" He couldn't get his words in because she seemed to be talking to herself again.

"I was selfish. So goddamn selfish. I wanted you with me. I wanted you to be here with me because things are easier when you're here. But you shouldn't be." She turned her head back to him and this time her watery eyes were strong as she stared him down. "You can't kill him. I can't let you kill another man. It'll change you and I want you to be the same. I want you to stay my Castle."

She sounded dangerously close to begging, but he had seen the command in her eyes. It was half plea and half order.

He reached to draw her face in. He needed to feel the heat of her body against his, warming him like the sun. She didn't resist—didn't even put up the pretense of a resistance effort. Her mouth collided with his and their tongues immediately swept against each other in a search for assurance and heat and the taste of them together. The small pieces of her hair tickled his face as the wind tossed them. He could feel that one slippery trail of the single tear she had let escape slide under his thumb as he caressed her cheek. Katherine Beckett had to be the only human on earth who could literally cry one solitary crocodile tear of emotion and remain absolutely gorgeous while doing it.

He pulled away but left his hands on her jaw.

"Kate. I will always be your Castle. I will always be your writer boy and your plucky sidekick. I will always be there to crack a joke at the most inopportune time just to see if I can get you to smile. I will always be yours. I won't change. This couldn't change me or who I am for you."

She closed her eyes and breathed in and out slowly. Deeply. He continued, his breath lightly brushing her cheek before the cool breeze swept it away.

"I would kill for you, Kate. I would die for you. Those are as much a part of me as the part that _lives_ for you."

* * *

><p><em>AN: Okay. So they've finally touched a bit on Kack (chaps1&2). Not a lot, but at least you guys know that THEY haven't forgotten about it and it has stuck with them and molded the way they are most likely going to deal with Tyson. Castle's readiness to kill is scaring Kate. She doesn't want to lose him. _

_Some of you have commented that you think that she would be open about everything now that they are together, but I don't think a person's core personality changes just because they are with somebody. He's a talker and she's not. Actually, in the show, he's not really a talker either. Not about the big things. I'd go so far as to say he is just as private and protected (if not more) as Kate. That's why I don't really have him talking about things too much either._

_I m__ay or may not post an **M companion to this chapter** in "Apples and Cherries and Sex". Yes or no? Grassy knoll sex a good idea?_

_(I didn't proofread this at all. If you find a mistake tell me in a PM [not a review] so I can fix it ASAP.)_


	43. Chapter 43

_Previously in Apples & Cherries…I believe they were sitting in some grass kissing. Kate doesn't want Rick to kill Tyson because he might Horcrux his soul._

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><p><span>Chapter Forty-Three:<span>

Kate let her jeans slide along the slightly sticky surface of the leather bench. The seam of her back pocket momentarily snagged on a long tear in the material before she bounced herself over it with the springs that lie beneath. Castle was scootching his way into the seat opposite her and she smiled as he hit a particularly creaky spot.

"It was the seat."

"Sure it was, Castle."

He pulled out his phone and checked the time. Setting it down next to the ketchup bottle and sugar packets, he began to tap his fingers on the scuffed wood table, the picture of impatience.

"Cool it, Castle."

"I'm starving."

"The food's not going to magically poof in front of you."

"Where is the waitress?"

"We've barely sat down. Give her a second."

Truth be told, Kate was getting extremely hungry herself. Her stomach almost hurt with the ache of being mostly empty for days. She hadn't thought much about food and eating lately with all that had happened. It just hadn't seemed like a priority. Her stomach was finally protesting that notion, as it demanded food in mass amounts.

The waitress walked up to their booth and slid two menus in front of them. Kate picked hers up and noticed the thick, dull sheen of a mysterious sticky substance coating the laminated surface. Ignoring her initial disgust, she chose to focus on the veritable feast of food it listed on its large single page.

"Can I start you out with some drinks?"

"Ice tea for me."

"I'll have a water, thanks."

The young waitress turned from the table to grab their drinks as Kate and Rick stared at their options, looking for the meal that would satisfy their all-consuming hunger.

"I'm too hungry to pick," Rick almost whined. "Everything looks good to me."

"I'm getting crab. Lots of crab."

"Oh! That sounds good. I want that too."

She rolled her eyes. Castle was such a copycat orderer.

"You should get the Blue Crab Sandwich. I'll get legs. That way we can share."

"Bossy. What if _I_ wanted the legs?"

"I'd say you've gotten plenty of leg today, Rick."

The happiness and delight in his returning expression made her own lips twist into a smile. He leaned in a bit over the table and she prepared herself for a hit of innuendo.

"Ah, yes. But those were your legs. Long and smooth and perfect and wrapped around me and…what was my point again?"

"I don't think you had one."

The waitress came back with their drinks and with a sweet smile that begged for a tip she turned to Kate.

"Are you ready to order?"

"I think I'm going to have the crab legs."

"Great choice. We get them fresh from the local fishermen."

Castle gave Kate a look of pure jealousy and then turned to the waitress who was now looking at him expectantly for his order.

"Blue Crab Sandwich, please."

"That one's actually my favorite! They put a cooked soft-shell blue crab between two pieces of our homemade bread. Buttered and toasted. It's fantastic."

Rick looked appeased, no longer coveting Kate's order of the legs.

"Great! Well, we're starving, so bring it on!"

"Will do."

They were seated at a booth that pressed up against a window, stained from endless rainy seasons and overlooking the harbor. All of Ilwaco was a fishing town. It was pressed right up against the Columbia and small wooden docks jutted out into the cold lapping waters, tethering countless boats.

Kate watched as boats of every color, shape, and size bobbed in the water, bumping the rough rubber tires lining the docks. She gazed through the dirty glass at a small crew of men tossing ropes and buckets, poles and nets, boots and boxes to each other. She listened closely and could hear their voices yelling, almost a language of their own. This dance of preparing for sea was mesmerizing and she watched their choreography until she felt Castle's fingers brush along her knuckles.

"Getting a hankering for a life at sea?"

"No, actually I get seasick."

"Do you now? Well, I guess that rules out a vacation on my boat."

"You should take Montgomery instead. He loves fishing." She smiled at him.

"Yeah. Vacation with Montgomery would include a completely different itinerary than a deep-sea vacation with you. More fishing. Less sex."

"_Less _sex?" The glint in her eye teased him viciously.

"No sex. I meant no sex."

Before she could volley another round back at him, the waitress came with their food. Steam rose from Kate's crab legs in swirls of fragrant temptation. Castle's sandwich glistened golden in the filtered sunlight, the smell of butter rising to their noses. Smiling down at their food, they both dug in like uncontrollable heathens.

The crab was succulent. Fresh. Orgasmic.

They ate at an alarming rate. The food disappeared from their plates and Kate thought the only thing keeping Rick from licking his was the fact that there wasn't much left to lick. He was using her fries to swab up the last bits of the sauce that had been on his sandwich. She didn't have the heart to slap his pilfering fingers away from her fries. She was too full to eat them herself anyway.

Castle slumped dramatically back into the booth. Kate leaned heavily on her elbows.

"Wanna get the check and get back to the cottage? I don't want to miss the meeting."

"Well, Stubble Jaw and Fresh Face over there haven't moved yet. I was kind of hoping we could push our tables together and have a pow wow of our own."

Kate had noticed the two FBI agents as soon as they had walked into the restaurant about three minutes into their meal. An older, senior-looking agent with a thick neck and sunglasses sat across from a much younger looking guy. He could only be a trainee with a fresh round face like that. They had been sitting at the table nearest to the door and had ordered only coffee. Dressed in non-descript suits, they were about as inconspicuous in Ilwaco as flamingos.

They both watched the men for a few minutes, not even trying to be subtle. Neither agent moved or made eye contact, but simply sat in silence, nursing their coffees stiffly. Orders were orders. Kate held no doubt that they had been told to stand back and watch, not to interact.

"Think they are here to protect us or keep us from investigating on our own?" Castle asked her, his voice low.

"Not mutually exclusive things, Castle. They don't want us hurt, so I think they're going to try and keep us from Tyson. But just watching for now, I'd say."

"Hmm. I wonder if they were watching us out in the grass."

Kate blushed and pursed her lips. _Well, shit. _

"Oh god. They probably were."

"Can't our intimate moments ever be…_intimate_? What's with the snooping third party thing? First Tyson and now these guys? I'd like to have you all to myself at some point."

"I wouldn't mind a bit of privacy myself."

They went back to pushing crumbs on their plates that had yet to be cleared and staring at the peeping Tom agents. Kate was getting antsy.

"Where is our waitress? I don't want to miss this damn meeting. We don't want to be any more out of the loop than we already are."

Just then, Stubble Jaw reached his hand up to his ear, breaking the repetitive stagnancy of stillness he'd previously been embodying. It was a typical move. He was pressing his ear bud deeper into his ear. Someone was talking to him. His head shot up to look at the round-faced young man in front of him and they spoke in hushed tones. The flutter of a quickened heartbeat was visible in Stubble Jaw's throat, while Fresh Face's fresh face was painted with eager excitement.

Something was going down.

Kate stood, and as if Rick had expected it, he was rising in sync. They walked over to the table and effectively blocked the exits of both agents. Castle tried to look imposing and Kate had to admit he was pulling it off. She simply stared down at both men, eyes steely, waiting for one to break and clue her in. Fresh Face was studiously avoiding eye contact with her, but his older counterpart had no qualms staring at her through his aviators.

"Hello, Beckett. Enjoy your meal?"

"I did. It was lovely. What's going on with Tyson." It wasn't a question. It was a demand.

"We've got him."

"You've got him?" Castle spoke loudly and excitedly, all of his muscles tensed.

"We've got him cornered. All agents are being called in."

"Then let's go! What the hell are we still here for?" Kate was already turning her body towards the door.

"Now hang on there, Beckett. We've got strict instructions to keep the two of you away. This needs to go smoothly. Rafferty here will stay with you for protection. Just in case. We'll notify you when Tyson's in custody"

Everyone there knew Rafferty would be staying to keep them away. Not to protect them. Castle sputtered but Kate wrapped her hand around his elbow, drawing him away.

"It's okay, Rick. They've got all their men on it. It's better this way. It'll be over soon. It'll be over." She seemed to be convincing herself as much as him. He took a deep breath and his ribs brushed her knuckles.

"Okay. Let's get our check and head back to the Retreat. I want to know the exact moment they get him. Fresh Face here isn't going to have a clue."

"I'm sure Rafferty will know as soon as everyone else."

They walked together to the counter of the diner in search of their waitress and check. A middle-aged woman with bottle-red hair pursed her bright pink lips and leaned forward on the counter.

"Can I help you?"

"We were just looking for our waitress. It's been a while and we'd like to head out. Settle the check."

"Jillian? Haven't seen her around in a bit. Must be on her break. I saw her go out back for a smoke, let me grab her for you."

The woman made her way around the counter and her hips swayed with each step, heels clacking on the tile floor. Walking to the back of the restaurant, she pushed through a curtain that Kate assumed led to the kitchens and the backdoor. The red head was gone for a while, enough to get Rick's foot tapping and Kate fiddling with her thumb. Eventually, she returned with a swipe of her hand at the red curtains.

She was holding the black leather checkbook, but was unaccompanied by Jillian.

"Couldn't find her, but she left your check on the counter by the backdoor. I swear that girl always has her head in the clouds. Leaving a table halfway through a meal for me to deal with? Like I don't have my own to take care of. And not even telling me? Frankie's gonna hear about this one. She can't keep dropping tables like this…"

Kate and Castle tuned her out. Kate was digging in her pocket for cash and Rick had been prying out his own wallet. He flipped the book open with his free thumb to check the total and do some quick tip math. Excellent prices for excellent food. He'd have gladly paid a fortune for the same meal in New York. Slipping twenty bucks in he waved off Kate's attempts to include her own. Preparing to snap the book shut, he caught the scribble of writing at the top of the tab.

Horribly familiar handwriting.

All capital letters. Small. Careful. Dark.

His stomach sank and the only sensation he could feel were the four pricks of Kate's fingernails into his forearm as she observed the same terrifying message and came to the same conclusion.

Tyson.

_Don't forget to tip your waitress._

* * *

><p><em>AN: I AM SO SORRY FOR THE WAIT! If it helps, the time away has allowed me to plot out the rest of the story, so it was not time wasted. I really needed the break. My mind was churning out absolute crap that wasn't worthy of my loyal readers. I didn't want to disappoint you, so I took some time to collect my thoughts and gather certain images and scenes that will get us to the end._

_Who liked the chapter? I think I do. It made me crave crab, so that's something. I haven't eaten people food in DAYS. Seriously. I had a salad like two days ago and that's the only food I've eaten. I have no time for food. Review! It's almost like feeding me!_


	44. Chapter 44

_Previously in Apples & Cherries…They ate orgasmy crab, the feds have Tyson cornered, and the waitress is missing. Tyson left them another creepy-ass note._

* * *

><p><span>Chapter Forty-Four:<span>

"Shit."

Kate said it, but Castle was thinking it.

"Shit. _Shit_." She snatched the receipt from his grasp and stared at it with unblinking, analytical eyes. His eyes were trained on her features, waiting for a command. Direction. Action.

She finally turned to meet his expectant gaze. Her eyes were intense. Cop mode. The transition had been seamless.

"This says the bill was printed out at 4:22PM. It's 4:49PM now. That's a small window. He couldn't have gotten far. They're nearby."

He loved her mind. Turning to the incredibly confused redheaded waitress, he spoke, "Where is the backdoor?"

She pointed slowly towards the curtain, but Beckett and Castle were already taking steps forward. They'd known the backdoor was through the curtain. Kate was halted by a firm hand at her arm.

"Where do you think you're going?"

Rafferty.

Kate looked at his handsome face like she'd forgotten he even existed.

"Tyson. He's near here. He left us a little note on our bill and grabbed our waitress Jillian. We have to act quickly. He took her out the back way."

"Wait, wait, wait. What?"

Castle spoke loudly, slowly, and rudely. "Tyson. Here. Took another girl."

Rafferty scowled his young and unlined face. It was an unnatural expression on him. "Tyson's all the way across town right now by the hospital on the 101. You guys are just trying to get out of here. I'm not as green as I seem. "

"Really? Because for someone who was given express orders to keep us away from Tyson, you just gave us his supposed location. That's pretty damn green."

Kate made a good point. A flicker of fear flew through Rafferty's eyes before he veiled it and turned his attentions to Castle.

"Doesn't matter if you know. I'm perfectly capable of keeping the two of you away. They probably—"

"Listen, kid, we don't give a damn where you think Tyson is. He's not there anyway. He's here. Call in some back up. We've gotta go after him."

"No way. I'm not calling in anything. They have him at the hospital. The dogs found the trail and we had a visual confirmation."

"It's a distraction! This is how Tyson plays. Nothing is what it seems. He's here! Look at the note he wrote! Now call the back up. We don't have time for this."

Rafferty glanced at the note and shook his head. "No way. Not for this. This is nothing. They have a visual of him. You've got a note that your waitress wrote before she left to go take a smoke."

Beckett and Castle made eye contact and came to a tacit agreement. This time Kate turned to Rafferty and demanded his attention with her commanding posture.

"Fine. You can come with us or you can stay here, but we're leaving and there's no way in hell you can stop us. He's not getting another one. This ends here."

They turned from the young agent and pushed through the heavy red curtain that partitioned off the back of the restaurant. They were met with an empty kitchen save for a single cook. Kate directed her words across a row of stoves to the man.

"Excuse me, sir. Did you see Jillian come through here?"

"Yeah. 'Bout twenty minutes or so ago. She stepped out with her cigs."

"Anyone else come in through that door?"

"Yeah. Some cripple came in about an hour ago. He just looked through the curtain and then left again."

"Did he talk to Jillian?"

"No."

"Did you talk to him?"

"I asked him what he was doin' here. He said he had the wrong place and just left. What's this about?"

"You see him again, you call the police. Thanks."

They walked around to the back door and pushed it open, stepping out into the rapidly cooling air. The ground was covered in small angular grey stones and rumbled together under their feet.

"You'd think the cook would have heard her getting grabbed," Castle stated, his eyes to the ground for clues.

"Not with the noise of cooking. He wouldn't have heard a thing." Kate's eyes were on the surrounding buildings of the alley. She was looking for the most probable path of escape.

The creaking hinges of the metal door caused both their heads to snap back, watching as Rafferty stepped into the back alley. Castle rolled his eyes and went back to systematically checking the ground for signs of Tyson. Kate joined him.

"I'm going to have to ask the two of you to—"

"Hey! Kate, I've got blood over here. It's not much. Might have come off of Tyson."

Kate jogged over to him and picked up one of the blood-specked rocks, followed closely by young Rafferty.

"Yep. That looks like blood. It's a drip, not a spray pattern. Probably non-violent."

"Tyson doesn't like to make a mess, remember. My guess is Jillian doesn't have a scratch on her."

"Unless it's around her neck."

"Right."

Rafferty had been flicking his eyes between the two partners and the bloody rock they held, his pretty features twisted in confusion and pale skin slightly flushed.

"Wait a minute…" he spoke, but paused. "This is…This isn't blood. Can't be. They've got Tyson cornered at the hospital. They had a visual confirmation. They have the scent there."

"It's a goddamn distraction! Get it through your head so we can move on and get to Jillian in time." Castle's patience was wearing thin. In fact, it was probably non-existent at this point.

"Castle. Not helping." Kate turned to Rafferty, whose eyes were slowly showing doubt in what he had previously believed. "You with us or not? We've gotta move quickly."

"I'm…I'll call it in just in case. But they've got a visual on him. They have his scent."

Castle made a noise under his breath and started walking south down the alley towards the water. Rafferty pulled out a small cell phone and pressed a single button to call it in.

"We've got some suspicious…findings down on Robert Gray at the Paulson Seaside Diner. Possibly linked to Jerry Tyson. I'm requesting back up. There is a waitress missing." He paused and listened. "Yes, sir." Another pause. "Yes, sir."

He hung up and turned to Kate. "They're calling in the city police for this. The team is all busy with Tyson at the hospital. They need the men there."

"Right. Okay." Kate looked up and watched Castle's back get further and further down the alley. "You can stay and wait for them or come with us. We could use your gun, just in case."

Appealing to a man's gun was just as effective as flirting.

"I'll come. I've got orders to stick to the two of you anyway. Which way are we going?"

"Looks like towards the docks." She started walking quickly after Castle who was now standing and waiting at the sidewalk that hit the end of the alley at a T.

She spoke, talking to herself, but also for the slightly-unwelcome newcomer to their team. "It's all still a game for him. But his time he's flying with no extensive plan. That's where he'll be weak. He can't cover his tracks. He wouldn't have been able to take Jillian. He had none of the chemical rags like before. No gun. Nothing."

"So how'd he get her?"

She shook her head. "I don't know. He should be too weak. He shouldn't even be alive. He couldn't have grabbed her or overpowered her. Not unless she was surprised, but that alley's got no angle for sneak attacks. She'd have seen it coming."

"Maybe she just…went with him."

Kate smiled. "So now you believe he's got her?"

He blushed and looked down. "No. Just asking."

They finally reached Castle and Kate stood in front of him, reaching out to place a hand on his forearm. His eyes were still full of impatience, but he seemed to have cooled down a bit.

"Rafferty's coming with us."

Castle raised a pair of doubtful eyebrows.

"It can't hurt to check it out," supplied Rafferty, pink lips twisting in a smile.

Castle shot him a deeply sarcastic, _oh, NOW you're catching_ on stare.

"I figure she went with him willingly. He's too weak and the gravel showed no signs of a struggled."

"That's what Rafferty here thinks too."

The young agent looked a little proud of himself and swiped a thumb across his nose. Castle nodded and then turned to look at the ground. It was so much cleaner than a New York sidewalk. No chewed-gum mosaic or mysterious stains. Clues would stand out here. If they were lucky enough to find more blood. Kate and Rafferty took the side closest to the water eyes trained on the ground.

Kate saw the wet, red stain first. And she called her partner over in a hurry.

"Castle! We've got more blood!"

He jogged across the traffic-less street and crouched down with the other two to inspect the three small bloodstains.

"Good catch, Beckett."

"Yeah. Nice eye," Rafferty threw in, eagerly. He was growing on her. His black hair was shining in the sun, almost as brightly as his big, green eyes that begged for approval.

"Now we've just gotta follow the breadcrumbs."

They all stood at once and looked around. No obvious breadcrumbs in sight. Walking forward, they all continued down the sidewalk, side by side. It smelled like saltwater and fish and the screaming gulls took turns gliding slowly through the air and dropping waste on the boats and wooden docks. Kate pulled her eyes from the birds and forced them back to the ground. Blood. They had to find more blood.

Five minutes of slow and careful walking later, Rafferty spotted more blood.

Ten minutes after that, Kate saw a single drop.

They were losing time. If they didn't find him soon, the sun would set and they'd never be able to see the blood. They were racing time, but were forced to walk at a painfully sluggish pace. It was frustrating.

Kate was ready to bail on this plan of action and start running up and down the street calling his name, when she felt Castle's hand on her arm.

It wasn't light or loving; it hurt. He was squeezing and his knuckles were white. She held back an admonishment when she saw his expression. He was staring out at the water, jaw clenched and eyes solemn. Kate knew that face. She knew he'd found Tyson before she even bothered to follow his gaze.

Halting Rafferty who had continued walking with his eyes on the ground, she looked out at whatever had caught Castle's eye. He was looking at a boat that was idling not far off the docks. It was old, rusting, and completely devoid of Tyson from what she could see.

"Castle, what is it?"

"They're on that boat. It wasn't an eight, Kate."

She looked back at the boat and saw the chipped and fading name, painted in black, broken script. _Infinity. _

"An infinity sign," she whispered.

"That's where they are, Kate. We've gotta get out there."

"I'm sorry, but what's going on?" Rafferty had been staring confusedly at the boat.

"Tyson's on that boat. Call it in to the feds again. They've gotta know that they're wrong. You have to convince them."

Rafferty's green eyes were wide, but he reached for his phone. Apparently somewhere along the lines, they'd made a believer out of him.

"Hello, sir. We've got a boat out here, Name: Infinity. Model: unknown. We think it's possibly the location of Tyson and his captive—" he paused to listen. "Mr. Castle and Ms. Beckett, sir." He waited again, mouth opening and closing with interruptions that were never quite vocalized. "There's a blood trail leading to the boat and I'm requesting back up. It could be Tyson." With a final nod he said his goodbyes to his superior and hung up the phone.

"They'll send back up when they can. The situation at the hospital has escalated with possible hostages."

"So basically don't expect back up anytime soon." Kate filled in.

Castle was walking out on the wooden dock and Kate and Rafferty quickly followed. It bounced and swayed in the water. Castle reached the end quickly and was string down at a small motorboat roped to a cleat.

"Castle, you can't steal a boat."

"I'm not. Look." He was pointing to the steering wheel of the boat. A note was taped there. This one was not small or hidden. Kate jumped off the dock and into the boat. Waves were pushed out from beneath it and it swayed back and forth, but she took no notice. Snatching the note she read it to Castle. This one was not cryptic.

"_Hop in. The key is on the floor. I'm watching you and the waitress dies if you don't._"

Castle eased himself into the boat, steadying himself with a hand on the splintery dock. Rafferty looked far more hesitant to follow the orders of a serial killer.

"Maybe we should wait for the back up. He's obviously expecting you."

"Jillian can't wait for back up. Tyson doesn't mess around. He'll kill her and send her floating back to shore. He knows what that would do to us."

Taking a deep breath to presumably steady his nerves and push aside his hesitance, Rafferty jumped into the motorboat.

"This is crazy."

Kate put a hand on his shoulder and looked him in the eye. "Hey. You've got the gun. Time to be a hero."

He nodded at her words. They had been spoken fiercely. Not a pep-talk, but the truth. He pulled his gun out of its holster in his jacket and slid the magazine out, checking his bullets before snapping it back in. His round, delicate face had lost its almost feminine appeal and was hardened with determination.

Castle was on the floor looking for the key.

Rafferty untied the boat from the cleat and hauled the rope back in.

Kate sat next to the motor and took the key from Castle's hand when he thrust it at her. She shoved it in the ignition and turned, hearing the hum. Castle pulled at the cord of the motor to get it going. It took him five hard yanks and a few pushes of the fuel button before it roared to life.

They moved at a disturbingly slow pace towards _Infinity_.

Kate steered them towards the port side, where a rusted ladder dipped down over the side. They'd climb on here. It was the only way.

"Rafferty. You can stay here if you want. If you give me your gun, you can man the boat. We'll need it when we're done."

"Nope. No way."

"Castle, then. You've gotta be the one to stay."

He just stared at her before reaching out to grab the ladder.

"Hey! Stop. I've gotta go first. I've got the gun." Rafferty spoke quickly, tugging at the back of Castle's shirt. Kate was looking up at the edge of the boat, waiting for Tyson to show himself.

"God, I hate a predictable entrance."

"There's no other way, Kate." He turned to Rafferty, shrugging off the hand that was still pulling at his shirt. "Fine. You go up first. Keep your gun out, safety off, finger on the trigger. If you see him, then shoot him. If he surprises you before you can get a shot off, just jump off the ship. Got it?"

"Yeah. Got it."

He was already two rungs up the ladder. Castle was following close behind. Kate tied the rope around the ladder in a double knot. She didn't know any sailor knots and didn't have time for them anyway. She quickly caught up to the two men before her on the ladder, watching as Rafferty swung a leg over the edge, gun raised and eyes alert.

Castle was quickly over next, covered by Rafferty's gun. Kate followed and found her feet on the deck. It was dirty and old and there was no sign of Tyson or Jillian. Her eyes immediately found the cabin and she motioned for Rafferty to lead them. He took one step away from the wall, gun raised and trained on the faded red, metal door.

A loud noise sliced the air and Kate saw something flash by her in a whir. The wet sound of pierced flesh was mixed with the solid sound of metal punching through metal.

Rafferty screamed.

Kate whirled around.

The young Rafferty was pinned to the low wall of the deck with a harpoon sticking out of his gut. His hands were pressed to where the rod stuck so unnaturally out of his body, eyes staring at his blood in disbelief. He looked at Kate, his eyes begging and impossibly green. He looked like a butterfly, pinned to a collector's corkboard.

Grotesque and beautiful.

* * *

><p><em>AN: You've. Just. Been. Jossed._

_For those of you who think I'm being too hard on the Feds (all of you?), I think perhaps I should defend them/myself. I have them acting exactly the way I would act if I were a Fed and not Caskett. They have procedures to follow and the involvement of Beckett or Castle could seriously harm their case. Those two are WAY too close to this thing. I wouldn't let them anywhere NEAR Tyson. I haven't written any of them as stupid or incompetent (with the exception of Rafferty who is just a green little baby). They are all just following orders and procedure and trying to catch Tyson in their own way. Although I can TOTALLY see why you guys _think_ I hate the feds. I'm writing this mostly from a Casketty viewpoint and those two are definitely annoyed by the men in black._

_**Also,**__ this fed situation shows exactly the reason Castle didn't call the police/feds in the first place. They'd have kept him away from everything and mucked it all up with procedure. It's supposed to shed a bit of light on his previous decision that was a bit questionable when Alexis first went missing._

_PS: Pretty much all of you nailed the Infinity thing. So yeah. You are all geniuses. If even one of you sends me an "I told you so" message, I'm going to be like "YOU AND EVERYONE ELSE HERE!" And then I'll feel like a touchy bitch and you'll like my story less._

_Author's note too long. Sorry. I love you all. And I promise something lighter and funnier (in my A/N) next time._


	45. Chapter 45

_Previously in Apples & Cherries…Tyson has Jillian the waitress on a boat called Infinity. Young Rafferty was harpooned._

_NOTE: Pictures of my mental conception of the boat are on my Tumblr (URL in my FF bio). It's basically a larger version of the boat (Orca) from _Jaws.

* * *

><p><span>Chapter Forty-Five:<span>

Castle fell to a squat next to the gasping man pinned to the wall. He held Rafferty's wrists in his large hands, trying to keep him from pulling out the harpoon.

"Leave it, kid. It'll keep the blood in."

Rafferty's face was screwed up in pain. "Hurts."

"I bet it does. You're going to have a really nice scar after this. The girls will go crazy."

Rafferty let out a pained laugh that sounded far more like a sob. Blood flew from his mouth, spraying over his shirt and trickling down his chin. His breaths were coming short and his brow was furrowed deeply, green eyes screaming beneath black eyebrows.

Castle looked up to find Kate's eyes on the tiny, railed upper deck. A long brown rope trailed from the end of the harpoon at a steep angle and disappeared past their angle of vision. Kate had grabbed Rafferty's gun at some point and she had it pointed directly at where the rope disappeared over the edge.

Castle turned back to Rafferty to give him words of encouragement. Words of hope. A harpoon through the gut wasn't really that bad. Rick's characters in books had healed from far worse injuries. Derrick had once been shot six times in the chest and had still managed to pull through and kick ass a mere three chapters later. A harpoon to the gut wasn't _really_ that bad. He opened his mouth to tell Rafferty just that and met his open eyes.

Glassy and unseeing. Marbles.

Blood dripped slowly from the corner of his mouth, head tilted so that it pooled at the shoulder of his black suit jacket. His hands had gone slack, no longer fighting the harpoon that invaded his body. Rick fought the urge to shake him, to scream, to slap him until he woke up and demanded his precious gun back from Kate. Instead, Castle simply reached one hand to the young man's eyes and closed the soft lids, shuttering them for eternity. Black lashes against ever-whitening skin, would never open again.

"Castle, get up!"

He turned to look up at Kate, who hadn't taken her eyes off the upper deck. He rose and wiped his bloody hands down the thighs of his jeans. He swallowed and tried to clear his mind of the sound of Rafferty's last laugh, the gurgle of his blood, the disbelief and desperation in his pained eyes.

"Come on, Castle. We've gotta move." Kate's voice was anxious, but steady. She motioned her head for him to walk to her. He came, reluctantly leaving the body of their fallen agent behind.

"Tyson! Show yourself. Hands in the air and walk out slowly."

Castle almost laughed at her yelled command. _Like hell he'd do that._

There was no response, except for the sudden increase in vibrations at their feet. The engine was being kicked up and the boat was pushing forward through the river. The loud rumble of the motor and the acrid smell of burning fuels dominated their senses. He was taking them out to sea.

"Shit. Kate we can't let him take us out there. We've gotta hold him here until the feds come."

"How exactly do you plan on doing that?" she snapped.

His eyes drilled into her profile that had yet to look away from where Tyson was, but he didn't respond. Her jaw was clenched and he could see her mind whirring, desperately clutching at anything that could grow into a plan. They were now chugging along at a rapid pace, the water churning in a white froth behind them. Castle gave it fifteen minutes before they were out to sea and only a few hours before nightfall.

He ducked quickly back down to Rafferty, his hands darting out to flip open the sides of his black jacket. He dug his shaking fingers into the front pocket and grasped at the young man's cell phone. He was surprised that the phone didn't simply vibrate out of his grasp and overboard. Opening a new text, he directed it to Dawkins and typed with fingers that seemed like impossible sausages.

_Have Tyson. Trace this phone._

Tucking the phone back into his pocket, he stood and whispered to Kate, at her side in two steps.

"I texted Dawkins. Told them to trace the phone. Now what?"

"Now we find Jillian."

"Right."

He'd forgotten about the young waitress. She couldn't have been much older than twenty. He pushed away images of tied and strangled girls—of Rafferty, harpooned with empty, vacant eyes. They had to get to Jillian before it was too late for her. Tyson wouldn't have killed her yet. He'd save it for when they were watching so they could see the fruits of his labors.

Kate was stalking forward, her arms flexed to show taut muscles holding up a steady gun. He was momentarily in awe of her composure; his hands still shook and he felt like he was fighting his knees with every step. She nodded her chin towards the port side.

"Grab that. Wait two minutes and then go up that ladder."

He looked at the ground towards what she was indicating and saw a hollow steel pipe that looked like it could have been a broken piece of a shark fishing rod. It was thick and a bit jagged at the end. Part of the massive reel was still attached. He picked it up and tested the weight in his hands. It was really light.

"I'm going to go up the opposite side ladder—"

"Nope. No way."

"I can take care of myself. I've got the gun and he can't surprise us with another harpoon. I'll be ready."

"I swear, Kate. If he—"

"He won't. Just come up in two minutes. Give me time to get the gun on him, sneak up on his back side, make a noise to distract him, and I'll take are of the rest."

"Can't you just shoot him as soon as you see him?"

"I will if I can. That was plan B. Now let's move."

He split off to the narrow strip of deck that ran alongside the supporting walls of the upper platform.

He heard her hiss at him, "Rick. If you hear something go wrong, just jump over the side."

Before he could argue that he'd never leave her, she'd disappeared around the corner to ascend her own ladder. He started a countdown in his mind. He'd give her no more than two minutes. Probably even less. He didn't like not having her in his sight, especially when they were only feet away from the man trying to kill them both. His hands had stopped shaking and the free one was now clinging to the side of the cold, metal ladder, ready to pull him up the first rung.

One more minute. Just sixty seconds and he could quietly climb up. Make sure Kate was okay.

"Castle!"

He was halfway up the ladder before he even had a chance to consider the action. His heart was beating so fast, it felt like one continuous pulse. Her call for him hadn't been a scream. It hadn't been followed by the whir and punch of a harpoon. There were no noises of struggle. She had to be okay. She had to be okay. She _had _to be okay.

"Come up slowly, Rick, and drop whatever you've got in your hands."

The voice shook him to the core. He'd known Tyson was there, but here was the proof. The chillingly calm voice was painfully familiar and belonged unmistakably to the man who had haunted his every dream for over a week.

His hands and feet had continued the relatively short climb and soon his head was level with the floor of the upper deck. He peeked over, his worry for Kate not overshadowing his common sense.

His eyes were immediately drawn to Kate, like they had been programmed to do so. He saw her standing on the opposite side, right above where the ladder had supposedly terminated. Whole. No harpoons or ropes or blood.

He could see Tyson as well, leaning against the back metal railing. Castle couldn't quite figure out what he was looking at, though. Jillian's legs and torso were clearly tied to a chair and her hands were tied to the helm at the fore of the upper deck. There was a complex system of ropes, draping and swooping around, the function of which Castle could not quite pin with a mere peek.

He pulled his head back below the floor level and called out to Kate.

"You okay?"

"I'm fine. Tyson's got a—"

"That's enough, Kate. Let him see for himself. Come on up, Richard."

Castle tucked the broken shark fishing rod into the back of his pants and completed climbing the rest of the rungs of the ladder. As soon as his feet hit the deck, he began processing what was in front of him.

Tyson seemed to be supporting himself on the railing. He was as weak as they'd thought. Castle could see it in the hunch of his shoulders and the grayish tint of his skin. His face was mottled around his eyes and cheeks from where Kate had viciously broken his nose. His lip was slowly dripping blood from a deep cut that seemed to refuse to heal.

His left hand was clutching a rope that was threaded through the tail end of a harpoon shaft, just like the one that had stuck Rafferty. This particular harpoon, however was suspended in the air. It was tied around the neck and tail with two short ropes that were in turn tied tightly to a longer rope. Castle's eyes followed that taut, longer rope all the way up a mast-like structure where it was secured.

The structure reminded Castle of a swing being held back, halted at its peak, craving to be released and sent swooping down in an arc. It was a stalled pendulum.

The moment he realized what Tyson had done, his hands began to shake again. The potential trajectory of the harpoon if released from its suspended position would be straight through the center of Jillian. The only thing keeping her from meeting the same gruesome death as Agent Rafferty was the light grip that Tyson held on the rope. If he let go, Jillian would be dead.

"It's a dead man's switch." He said it to himself, but everyone heard.

"Right you are! Now get comfortable while Jillian takes us out to sea."

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><p><em>AN: I'm sorry for the delay. Kind of shortish, but it breaks in a good place and I figured you guys would rather read something than nothing. __**This was my first week of medical school **__(hooray! I survived!) and I still haven't hammered out a consistent schedule. I write during my breaks, but there aren't many of those._

_If anyone is confused or having trouble picturing the dead man's switch set up, I am going to post a drawing of it on my tumblr (url in my ff bio) along with a general idea of what the boat looks like._

_I could really use a veritable deluge of reviews on this one. Show me you still love me even though the chapters are coming slower. __**I'll never, EVER abandon a fic**__. So stop worrying about that. This story and you guys are constantly on my mind. Is this story still good? I don't want to let anybody down, here. Things are coming to an end soon (not THAT soon, but in a few chapters) so I need to know if I'm sucking and need to step up my game. Or if I'm amazing. Cuz that'd be nice to hear too._


	46. Chapter 46

_Previously in Apples & Cherries…Rafferty died. Tyson has jury rigged a dead man's switch out of some rope and a harpoon so that Kate and Rick can't kill him without Jillian getting stuck through by a swinging harpoon._

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><p><em><strong>Warning:<strong> Blah blah blah. **This is rated T** and there is violence. Blood. Gore. Things not for the faint of heart. You've been sufficiently (and in my opinion, overly) warned._

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><p><span>Chapter Forty-Six:<span>

Around them stretched a black sea that pressed against an even blacker sky, the two meeting in some unknown place, blending until they were no longer distinct realms of the world. They were sailing into the infinity of an endless oblivion.

The only light was a dim lamp that hung above the door of the first floor cabin. It swung like a pendulum with the waves that kept the boat lolling, bringing life to the shadows and forcing movement upon them.

The four on board were silent, but the sea and ship beneath them were not. The motor grumbled its struggle against the sea. The white noise of the ocean as it acquiesced passage and slushed against the rusting sides of the ship rose and fell in volume, whispering to deeper waters the secrets of the surface. The beams and welded links of the boat creaked and groaned like the bones and joints of an ancient tired body.

Rick had no clue how long they had all been standing there. Long enough for land to have become a mere sliver of gray before disappearing entirely. Long enough for the fire of the sunset to be extinguished by the black blanket of night. Long enough for the ache of inaction to settle deep into his muscles and bones.

He'd spent most of his time staring at Kate. He'd tried to have a nonverbal conversation with her to formulate some sort of cohesive plan, but contrary to popular conception, they didn't actually have a telepathic link that allowed them to know each other's thoughts. He had no clue what was brewing in her mind, nor she his. Her eyes were constantly darting to the gun that rested only a few feet from her, but she made no move to grab it. Neither did Tyson.

Castle had spent most of his time trying to think of a way to use his hidden shark rod to their advantage, but unless he could get close to Tyson, it was no good. He was glad to feel it at his back, nevertheless. It was somewhat of a reassurance to have at least one thing on their side that Tyson didn't know about.

"Do me a favor, Richard, and kill the engine switch, will ya? This seems like a good enough place."

Tyson's voice rose above the murmuring sea and the steady grumble of the motor, sounding completely alien after so long a silence. Castle pulled his eyes from Kate to look defiantly at Tyson, who let out an impatient sigh.

"Do we really have to go through this? Kill the switch or I kill the girl."

Rick was tempted to argue that killing Jillian would lose him his bargaining chip, but it made no difference. He wasn't willing to chance an innocent girl's death. Besides, he didn't want to go any further out to sea. Stopping would at least get the damn show on the road.

Walking over to the girl whose hands were still tied tightly to the helm, he searched the control panel for some sort of obvious "off" button. Finding the throttle easily, he pulled it all the way down and then flipped the switch to completely kill the engine.

The boat, which had seemed to be moving rather slowly through the water, drastically slowed to a stop and seemed to sink deeper into the water without the constant forward thrust foreword. The quiet that surrounded them was astounding.

Castle could hear his breathing.

He looked down at Jillian, her face lit from beneath by the lamp hanging from the door below them. Tear tracks shone on her face and Castle watched a fresh one roll silently down to her chin before it plummeted to her apron-clad lap. She had a fresh cut and bump on her forehead and her big blue eyes were unbelievably clear as they met his, wide and drowning.

"He just said he needed help carrying his books to his boat. He just said he needed help and he was so hurt looking. I didn't know. I didn't know. I just wanted to help. He said it wouldn't take long. I didn't know."

She was drowning in her tears and regrets and disbelief and Castle threw her a line. "It'll be okay. We'll get you out of this."

"Ah, Richard Castle: Ever the optimist. Kindly step away from my bull's-eye. I have a few talking points I'd like to hit before I kill you and the lovely Miss Beckett."

"Really? A villain's speech? Can't you just kill us now and save us your arrogant explanations?" Castle moved back to his previous position, halfway between Tyson and Jillian and against the side rail.

"No such luck."

Rick looked towards Kate whose eyes were fixed on the gun on the floor. If he hadn't been staring at her for the hours of sailing out to sea, he might not have noticed the tiny shift in her position. She had inched closer to where Tyson had made her slide Rafferty's gun. She looked up and met his eyes, a glint of anticipation shimmering brightly in the low light. She'd be prepared to dive for the gun when the time came. Castle swallowed and tried desperately to fill in a plan that could get them to the gun grabbing point. Safely. He came up with nothing good, nothing that ensured their lives.

Maybe they were past the point of "perfect plans". Maybe there had to be losses. Maybe that was the only way to win. Maybe a bad plan was the only plan. Maybe Tyson held too many of the cards to even bother playing the same game with him.

"How does it feel to know you have failed?" Tyson asked him, his voice curious and his hand readjusting on the rope that held back the harpoon.

"I could ask you the same thing. My daughter's alive and well and to my count, it's three against one on this boat. You can't win."

The warmth within Tyson's responding laugh was far more chilling than any cold cackle could ever be.

"Maybe not, but you'll definitely lose. And that's enough for me."

Cold fingers of fear gripped at his gut. If Tyson's only goal was to hurt him with no regard for his own survival, it made the game that much harder to play—that much more dangerous.

Tyson knew he was dying and that made the situation onboard _Infinity_ grim and terrifying. Rick did not look forward to trying to beat a man who had nothing to lose and was hell bent solely on causing him and Kate an unbearable amount of pain. He felt like he was trapped in a novel written by a madman, an inevitable ending racing toward him at an uncontrollably fast pace. How could he rewrite it?

"Miss Beckett? If you would kindly step up on that rail please and grab the little noose I left you?"

Castle looked up and saw within the many ropes that swooped over the upper deck, one that was gently hanging near Kate. It had a loop tied like a noose. How had he not seen that during the boat ride out to sea? Looking up above his own head, he saw that there was a noose dangling just within reach for him as well.

"Yes. I took the trouble of making two. I didn't know which ladder Kate would be coming up and I didn't want to make the two of you go through the hassle of switching places."

While Tyson was admiring the noose he'd made for Castle, Kate took a step forward, closer to the gun and away from her noose.

"Uh uh uh. Don't think I don't see you over there, Miss Beckett. To the noose, please."

She froze in place, but made no movements towards the noose. Her eyes burned with defiance and even in the dark, Castle could see her stubborn refusal. Tyson would be stuck if he couldn't get Kate in the noose. He'd never win the victory over Rick if Kate lived.

But it didn't really matter, did it? Tyson still had the winning hand. He still had Jillian.

"Oh dear. I think…I think my hand is slipping."

He let the rope securing the harpoon slip a fraction of an inch from his grasp. Castle heard Jillian's whimper. The girl couldn't see what was going on, but she could hear it all. Castle's memory sank onto the image of her pretty, blue eyes and wouldn't let go. They couldn't let the innocent one die. He knew that much. Kate would never let Jillian die. She'd wrap the rope around her own neck before she let Tyson harpoon the blameless waitress.

And Castle wouldn't let Kate die. Couldn't.

Tyson had all the control. He was the puppet master, pulling strings and ropes to make his prisoners dance at his will. He had _all_ the control.

And all Castle could think to do was make him lose a little bit of it.

He took a step forward and Tyson's eyes shot towards him, a dark brow lifting over an even darker eye.

"So what exactly is your plan here, Tyson? Have one last go at us before you die? Try to get under my skin one last time before your body finally collapses in on itself? Don't think I haven't noticed how heavily you're using that railing. You can't have much longer now. That crackling in each of your breaths? That's a punctured lung. You won't last with one of those. I'm surprised you've managed as much as you have the past day with your body giving up on you like that. Losing control of your own body. Must be awful for you."

Rick took another step in his enemy's direction. Heel toe. Slow and smooth, blending it with the rocking of the ship and the breathing of its passengers.

"I'm still in control."

"Sure. Whatever you say. But you haven't just lost command of your body. You no longer control the killings either. You don't color inside the lines anymore, Tyson. Did you think we wouldn't notice? Brunettes and redheads? Harpoons? You thought you were irreparably changing _my_ life, but take a look at your own. Seems like I've had quite the impact. You've lost the control. You're playing a losing game here. I've already won."

Heel toe. One more forward. Just push slowly onward and try not to be noticed.

"Not if I kill her. Not if I kill them." Sweat melted off Tyson's hairline to fall quickly into his eyebrow, causing him to twitch and blink. His eyes were red from the salt of his sweat and the spray of the sea.

"But you won't. You don't have the leverage. It's all over. Whatever this was? Whatever you've let your life become? It's over here, tonight."

"It's not over. What I've done to the world will stay forever."

Rick paused in his gentle approach. He had to agree. Tyson's footprint wouldn't wash away with his death.

"I guess that's true. People will always remember the man who took their loved ones away. But you know what's funny? There is one person who will never know what you've done and what you were capable of. The one person you did it all for and she will never know."

"Shut the fuck up! You don't get to talk about her again! Did you learn nothing from last time! You don't know anything about her or me. _You can't solve everything!_"

His face was red, charged with hatred and anger and what looked like fear. He was losing his tightly held control. Now was the time to push it the last bit forward. Now was the time to rob him of his grip on the situation. Castle was ready. He had the timing down. He had worked it out in his head. First the release then the leap. He could do it. Just get him to let it go. Let it go. Release the control.

"But I already did! I solved you and it wasn't even hard. Mommy issues? That's your villain origin story? She didn't see you. Didn't pay attention to you. Didn't love you."

"Shut up!"

"Castle, stop it." Kate's voice was strained and her eyes were wide and focusing on Tyson's hand. His grip on the rope that held back the harpoon was lessening. He looked ready to drop it.

The true evil within Tyson was shining out of his eyes. Glittering. He took an unconscious step towards Rick.

"So you strangled women who looked like her after she left you with no closure, after she failed to see what you could be and just wasted herself. You showed them all how strong you were. How worthy you were of their notice. How you could literally stop their existence with the pull of a rope. Your mother—"

"I said _shut up!_" His eyes blazed and he seemed to sway towards Castle, his body pulsing with rage at the man who just didn't know when to shut up.

"Castle, please. You're making him worse." He could hear Kate desperately trying to retain her calm, but there was a plea in her voice that almost drew his eyes away from Tyson. Almost.

Jillian sobbed from somewhere behind him and his mind snapped yet again to the memory of her flooded blue eyes, so like his daughter's. They were full of innocence and had yet to see the sights of a full life.

He needed to finish it.

He took yet another step toward the man and away from the railing, progressing to the midline of the boat. His steps were not as slow or cautious as before; Tyson was too riled up to notice his migration.

"You're right. There are some mysteries I'll never solve. But you? You're predictable, Jerry. You're lucky your mother can't see you now. She'd be disappointed. Ashamed. No wonder she couldn't love you—"

The scream of an animal pierced through the air, ripping apart the very fabric from which the night was woven. Tyson's humanity had fled from him long ago, pushed out by insanity and consuming hatred, but now with his wild eyes and throbbing veins, the animal he had become finally abandoned its human shell.

He lunged.

Castle dove.

Kate leapt.

Yellow teeth bared and nostrils flared, Tyson launched his entire being at Castle, forgetting the rope he had held prisoner in his hand for the past hours, forgetting the waitress tied to the helm, forgetting his plan.

Abandoning his control.

Castle dove, but instead of aiming for a collision with Tyson, he threw himself to the side and towards the midline of the boat. All six feet two inches of him stretched through the air, parallel to the ground in a mad and desperate leap towards the falling harpoon. His shoulder yanked at its anchor as he flung it in front of himself wildly, his fingers extending through the dark, seeking the weapon.

It fell faster than his mental calculation and he watched as it swung heavily and sliced through the air, metal tip gleaming in the low light. Releasing a powerful yell from deep within him, he turned his body in the air and swiped his arm towards the disappearing shaft of the harpoon. His fingers glanced off the butt end, knocking it slightly.

A shot rang out through the air, and blasted through Castle's eardrum as he hit the deck hard and rolled a few feet. His lungs completely devoid of air and unable to draw a breath, he lifted his unblinking eyes to Jillian as she sat helpless in the path of the harpoon

It fell swiftly and without mercy, but Castle couldn't bear to close his eyes. It swung like a deadly pendulum and in a moment that seemed to blend heartlessly with the others, the harpoon reached the equilibrium position halfway through its racing arc and surged upwards towards Jillian.

But something was different.

The trajectory was off.

The harpoon was moving in a more laterally directed arc and he watched as its upswing lilted to the side. It skimmed by Jillian in a miraculous deviation, put off course _just _enough by the previous and slight push of Castle's fingers. He hadn't been able to grab the harpoon, but he'd knocked it just enough to drive it off its deadly path.

Although it all happened in little more than a few seconds, Castle seemed to be experiencing it in slow motion. He'd researched this. Something about adrenaline relativity. He pulled his eyes to Kate who was clutching the gun in both hands and had it pointed at Tyson, who had staggered back against the posterior railing at the upper stern of the boat.

The shot he'd heard...she'd fired at Tyson after he'd lunged.

One of his hands clutched at his shoulder as blood pumped from some deep artery punctured by the bullet. The other hand held the rail and he had his foot raised to the first bar to help stabilize his body. Kate had the gun aimed and leveled between Tyson's eyes now and Castle watched as she pulled the trigger back just a bit, her finger whitening at the knuckle and her eyes emotionless, save for a tiny flicker of victory.

Before she could pull the tiny lever all the way back, the flash and blur of something flew between her and her target. The harpoon was on its backswing, splitting the deck in two as it rewound its path, blunt end first. Rick watched from the ground as it flew neatly over him and sliced towards Tyson.

Tyson's eyes had been on Kate and the gun she held and Rick thought for a glorious moment that he wouldn't see his own weapon racing towards him. But Tyson noticed the distraction of his enemies' gazes and at the last moment pulled his upper body to the side and dodged the harpoon as it flew by him and over the edge of the deck.

Kate readjusted the gun from where it had fallen slightly in front of her in the last moments, and prepared to fire again. Tyson was now smiling triumphantly at his avoidance of the harpoon like it was some great victory. The curve of his lips was manic as his mouth opened to scream out the first notes of a harsh laugh.

He made a move towards Rick. No plan. Just hate and determination, death festering in his black eyes. His foot lifted of the deck and he started to weakly push off with the one on the lowest bar of the small rail, the beginnings of a pathetic jump.

Before he could entirely thrust himself off, the harpoon flew back once again, retracing its bent path. His neck had been tilted at just the right angle to transect the supporting rope of the harpoon and stop its forward motion at that point. The harpoon jerked around his neck, looking to redirect its interrupted swing. Coming full circle, it caught itself and latched together in a weakly linked bond behind Tyson's head.

The intensity of this sudden backward wrench of the rope around his neck caught Tyson off guard and pulled his already unbalanced feet out from under him, yanking him back and to the side.

His maniacal laughter was strangled in his throat.

His eyes widened in surprise as he hung precariously for a moment, half over the edge of the rail, that one foot still clinging desperately to the wet and slippery metal of the first bar. The haul of the rope was too strong and only a moment later, Tyson was falling over the back rail with a rope tight around his neck.

Kate and Rick watch in utter horror as his fingernails scraped at the rail of the upper deck, fruitlessly trying to claw their way back over. They could hear his feet kicking the side of the boat, scrambling for purchase as his own weight bore down upon his throat.

He had not fallen far; the rope had been too short. Tyson's body was too weak and broken to make the short climb back up over the rail, and Kate and Rick could see his entire torso as he struggled.

His face flushed a blue that Castle could see even in the dull light that barely reached the back of the boat. His airway was cut off and the sounds of smothered choking fell to sea. Red splotches formed in and around his black eyes from bursting capillaries, transforming him into a sight straight from some nightmare as his tongue fattened and forced its way between his mutilated and mottled lips.

His arms had fallen to his sides as the fight and life drained out of him. His eyes had stopped blinking and merely stared through the rail in an echo of hatred. Castle couldn't quite tell when the lights had gone out in Jerry Tyson's eyes.

Perhaps there had never been a light there to snuff out in the first place.

Somewhere along the string of seconds that passed them by, the kicks against the side of the boat became merely the result of the rocking from the waves, not the last struggles of the man hung by his own ropes.

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><p>X<p>

X

X

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><p><em>AN: _

_Ding dong the dick is DEAD!_

_O.o Holy shit. That was super intense to write. Everything from Tyson's initial lunge at Castle to him hanging overboard happened in mere seconds in real time. Crazy right? I calculated the physics of the harpoon pendulum swing and its resulting Tyson Takedown. If you have questions on how that worked, you can ask me. I promise it mathematically works out. _

_I hope Tyson's demise was not disappointing. I thought it had a slight poetry about it. Rick Castle would approve (I hope)._

_Please review. This was an important chapter and I'd like to hear each and every one of my thousands of readers' opinions._


	47. Chapter 47

_Previously in Apples & Cherries…Tyson was hung by his own rope. Kate, Rick, and Jillian are still at sea on a boat that looks like a bigger version of the _Jaws_ boat (Orca). _

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><p><span>Chapter Forty-Seven:<span>

Castle half expected Tyson to scramble back over the edge and continue his terrorism. He couldn't draw his eyes away from the death that swung gently back and forth in front of him. Those black eyes were staring at nothing and the fact that they hadn't clouded over with the film of death or shut with lack of life, had permanent chills on Rick's arms.

Somewhere between the backswing of the harpoon and the hanging of Jerry Tyson, Castle had found his breath again and he sucked in a huge gulp as soon as he consciously realized its return. It was cold and salty and it burned his windpipe as he greedily refused to slow his inhalations. His lungs must be shrinking; they felt small.

He heard Kate pant somewhere above his position lying on the floor.

"You okay?" she asked, her voice steady but terribly quiet.

"Yeah. You?"

"Yeah."

He looked up at her, but she was already on the move. Twisting his neck around, he watched as she quickly covered the upper deck of the boat and fell to a squat next to Jillian. Castle pushed off the splintered wood plank floor and ignored the protests of his knees and back, jogging to join them at the helm.

Kate was checking out Jillian's head wound and was running her hands down the sides of the young woman's face to her neck, searching to see if Tyson had left marks in his favorite place. Kate asked her questions about her general well being, all things considered. Tears still fell from her face, but Castle could see the strength inside that he'd missed before. She wasn't helpless. She'd get through this.

Castle bent to inspect her bindings more closely and was suddenly aware of the broken shark fishing rod in his pants that strained against the denim, impeding the bend. How had he not felt that during his leap across the deck? He reached back and under his shirt and withdrew it. Using the sharpest edge he could find, he sawed at the ropes around Jillian's waist, ankles, and wrists until she was finally completely free. Setting the rod on the ground he watched as it rolled a short distance with a wave. At least it had been good for something.

As soon as she was free to, Jillian stood to her full height and backed away from the helm, pushing over the chair behind her. Her brow was furrowed and her lips pressed together tightly, turning white around their pink borders. She was breathing very heavily through her nose and sounded almost like a panicked horse. Castle watched her shaking hands rub together, soothing the pain that came with the return of blood flow to her hands.

"Hey. It's all okay now. He's gone and we're just gonna get you home as soon as possible." Castle felt like he was talking to a cornered animal. Kate was better at this; she connected with victims on a less condescending level.

He looked to her.

"Jillian? Why don't we get off this upper deck and find a good place for you to rest while Rick and I figure out how to get home?"

She cocked her head to the side of the boat towards the ladder. Positioning herself between young Jillian and the sight of Tyson's dead body swinging disturbingly from the back of the boat, she led her by the elbow until they reached the ladder and then allowed Jillian to climb down first before she followed.

Before her head disappeared from view, she lifted her eyes to meet his. They were full of something. He couldn't quite read the emotion with the shadows that broke up her features and disguised her face like the mask of some hero.

After she sank below the level of the upper deck to presumably situate Jillian in the quarters below, Castle turned his attention to the control panel and wheel of the boat. He had a yacht. He was well versed in nautical terms and "sailing by the stars", not just for research, but because he'd always found a life at sea somewhat romantic. But the controls and level of technology he was used to on his yacht were simply not applicable to the junker of a boat he was on now.

They might be better off rowing home.

East was easy. Find the Big Dipper then the Little Dipper then the North Star. Turn right and sail on home. He doubted he'd be able to get them back to Ilwaco. He would manage to hit the West Coast (it was pretty hard to miss), but there was no way he'd be able to navigate with any more precision than "this way is east."

He fired up the engine and waited for it to warm up a bit, feeling the vibrations through the soles of his shoes, making his feet itch and tingle. Pushing the throttle forward from where he'd pulled it down earlier, the boat slowly picked up speed in the bottomless and cold waters of the Pacific.

He turned the wheel to approximately ninety degrees from north and let the motor carry them towards the giant land mass that lay somewhere beyond their vision. His hands were shaking. He squeezed them tighter around the rim of the wheel. It was probably just the adrenaline retreating back to its origins, leaving his capillaries quaking with its absence, weak without that chemical strength.

He heard Kate before he saw her. The press of her feet into the deck floor was light, but his senses were on edge. She put her hand over his on the wheel and let her fingertips find their way under his palm. Pulling, she drew the hand off completely and then threaded her fingers with his.

"Jillian okay?"

"Yeah. She's lying down on a bed below deck. It looks filthy, but I swear she fell asleep about two seconds after I took her shoes off."

Castle looked at Kate's profile, which was currently focused out to sea, her stare a thousand yards away.

"You took her shoes off?"

She huffed a laugh and a tiny smile hit the corners of her lips.

"I dunno. I couldn't think of any protocol for this particular situation. Shoes off just sorta happened."

"No, no. I'm not judging. Shoes off is the first step to healing, I hear."

Kate nodded and ducked her head, watching their fingers as her thumb ran up and down his mindlessly. Another few moments of silence passed while Rick continued to hold the course steady with one hand. His other was surreptitiously sending a morse code message of _I love you_ into her palm.

"So what's the plan here?" she asked, looking up into the eyes that were already trained on her face.

"Well…Basically, I'm just sailing east until we see land. Then we'll ride the coast until we see civilization and go from there."

She nodded slowly. "Sounds good. Once the cell has a signal again, we can use it to call in. They can trace it and come find us. I checked the radio down below. It's busted."

"Well, hopefully by now they realize Tyson's diversion was actually a diversion and Rafferty's warnings were legitimate."

"I'm sure they've already got their people looking for us."

"Probably."

They let the lift and fall of the boat and the sounds of sea spray take over from there. Castle stared off into the distance. It felt an awful lot like sailing into the abyss of outer space. Everything around them was black except for the stars and their reflections on the surface of the black ocean. If it hadn't been for the icy wind that chilled his nose and pushed back his hair, Castle might have been convinced that they'd left this world and were sailing among the stars.

His mind began writing.

_The wind smelled like nothing. Icebergs. Rocks. Forgotten friends. It tugged at him to follow. To become nothing. He was tethered only by her hand, and her hand was everything._

He looked down at Kate's hand and then up into her eyes. She flickered a smile his way and then leaned in to briefly kiss his neck. He couldn't feel it through the chill of the air, but he could smell her as she drew near, the wind carrying her scent away as a treasure.

She rested her jaw on his shoulder and he let his cheek press against the hard curve of her head. He felt her take a deep breath like he himself was the one inspiring. She pulled back from the embrace, but let her gaze remain on the back of the boat.

"It's really over, isn't it."

Castle forced his eyes from her cheekbones and followed her hard stare.

The remains of Jerry Tyson stared back.

He clenched his jaw, repressing the sick feeling that was rising from within. "Yeah," he forced out, "it's really over. He's dead."

She tilted her head and looked at his jaw, stroking the muscle that clenched tightly there until he relaxed it.

"You played a good hand tonight, Castle."

"No. I played a bad hand very well."

She nodded slowly in a wordless agreement before they simultaneously looked back towards the corpse that haunted them.

"Do we take him down?" Castle asked, not sure how he felt about touching the body of Jerry Tyson.

"No. Evidence. We leave him to hang there and let the feds cut him down after they process the scene. You and I need to be cleared of this. It might not look good if we can't prove he basically killed himself with that rope."

"Right."

She pursed her lips and blew out a quick breath, shaking her head as if to clear it of all thoughts.

"How long do you think?"

"Honestly? I have no clue. At least an hour. You can go below deck and—"

"No. I'll stay with you."

He nodded once and then they both turned their attentions to the horizon, looking for the ashen shores to show themselves. Her arm wrapped around his waist and his rested across her shoulders. An occasionally piece of hair would fall from its hold and twine about the wind, brushing against his cheek or neck and persistently reminding him that she was there by his side with a flick.

And while neither of them had land in sight, they still felt the end was near. _Infinity _sailed into the east with a blasphemous abomination of a figurehead hoisted in the wake of its wind.

* * *

><p><em>AN: Okay. So nothing happened in this chapter. I know. You know. I know you know. Let's just clench our cheeks (you can pick which set) and hang on until the next couple chapters. Sometimes transitions are necessary and I tried to put some pretty words and lovey moments in this one, so at least there's that. _

_The reviews for last chapter were awesomesauce. Hit me with some of those again._

_Until next time._


	48. Chapter 48

_Previously in Apples & Cherries…Tyson is still dead. This is not a zombie story no matter how awesome that would be to write. I just don't think it would fit with my particular artistic vision for this story._

* * *

><p><span>Chapter Forty-Eight:<span>

The world had been spinning madly, trying to throw them off like kids on a merry-go-round, grasping desperately to each other and anything that might anchor them. But here on the bed with crisp white sheets that smelled like glacier water, things were finally holding still. The world had spun itself out and they could just lie next to each other and be. Exist. Breathe. Side by side they could sigh their way into some sense of normalcy and safety.

They had made it back to the hotel just as dawn was breaking somewhere, pushing tentative rays of light into the dark sky like scouts before peaking its sunny face over the land. As pretty as the pinks and blues were, Kate and Rick weren't focused on the skies. Kate had her head tipped to the side, facing the man beside her but with her eyes softly closed. Rick was watching the fan spin lazily around like it couldn't even be bothered to push any air.

They were both tired, but neither slept. How do you sleep when you are still trying to teach your mind to slow down and stop replaying the night on loop?

...

_It was 11:00 by the time they saw land looming darkly in the distance like a sleeping giant. Kate, who had been periodically checking the cell phone for service, pulled it out immediately after Castle's cry of "Land, ho!"_

_One bar. It looked more like a dot next to the unfilled others, but it was more than they'd seen in hours. She quickly found Dawkins' number in the contacts and sent out a call on that one tiny dot of service._

"_Dawkins."_

"_Hello, Agent Dawkins, this is Kate Beckett. There's shitty service out here so I'm going to talk fast and you're going to listen. We are currently somewhere off the coast on a fishing boat called _Infinity_. Agent Rafferty is dead. So is Tyson. Jillian Parker is alive, but needs to see a doctor. Rick and I need help guiding this boat home. Can you send someone to find us?"_

_There was silence on the line for a beat before she heard Dawkins bark out a few orders away from the phone._

"_We've already got a chopper in the air looking for you. Couldn't get a trace on the phone, but we are working on it now. Stay on the line."_

…

_By the time the incredibly bright light from the helicopter hit their boat like a routine alien abduction, the clock had struck 11:30. Two men in jumpsuits came down a wobbling, swinging ladder and Kate and Rick greeted them like it was a normal occurrence. Just stopping in for tea in the middle of the ocean on the shy side of midnight. _

_It was decided that Kate, Rick, and Jillian would return home in the helicopter while two of the Coast Guard men sailed the crime scene home. Tyson would stay exactly where he was._

…

_By the time everyone had climbed up and down ladders and swapped positions, it was midnight. The helicopter hovered for only a few seconds over the boat, while the passengers were given a brief on air safety that no one listened to. Castle leaned his head to the side so he could take a last look at _Infinity_. Even from their height and even as the helicopter veered sharply north, Castle swore he could see a red trail of blood, trying in vain to stain the ocean but getting lost in its vastness._

…

_Kate, Rick, and Jillian gave their statements back at the China Retreat where the FBI had set up their temporary headquarters. They'd been separated from each other almost immediately after landing on the empty field. Pulled out of the helicopter, pushed through dark and wildly waving grass, and escorted back to the hotel in separate cars. It was procedure. It was to protect the integrity of their stories and ensure truthful continuity._

_But Rick missed Kate's fingers filling the spaces between his own._

_And Kate missed the sound of Rick's voice bounding through her ears, oddly reassuring._

…

_They finished questioning Rick at around 5:00 in the morning with an offering of dry bagels. He gnawed numbly on his until a staff member of the hotel brought in cream cheese and lox and capers. He grabbed enough for two and assembled them hastily before pouring out hot coffee from the tin carafe into two Styrofoam cups._

_Kate would be done soon. He'd make her eat when she came in._

_When the door opened and closed to reveal Jillian being escorted in and showed the food, Castle relinquished Kate's food to the young woman. Her head looked like it hurt and he thought maybe bagels and lox could help._

_He made Kate more breakfast and waited to eat his own until she came in. _

…

"I'm going to call home. Talk to Alexis and mother and let them know it's all over now."

Kate's eyes stayed closed, but she breathed deeply and responded. "Good idea."

He paused, mulling over his words. "You should call Lanie and the boys. They deserve to hear it from you."

She opened her eyes and turned her head to stare at the fan with him. Neither of them moved for their cell phones, but they could both feel the silent agreement to have just one more moment of peace before they invited the outside world in. A gentle rain had begun, but the clouds that sent the drops to the earth avoided the area of the sky where the sun had risen, as if they just knew that the two people holed up in this tiny cottage needed the light. The drops gently flattened the sea grass outside with a soft _thap thap thap_ and sent a clean smell flowing in through the open window.

"Maybe if it rains hard enough, this whole world will flood and we can stay locked up in this room with each other." Castle's voice rumbled soft and low, waxing over the sounds of the weather.

"Forever, though?"

"Well, at least until Noah comes by and sails us and the rest of the paired-up animals away to some floating island somewhere where we can just lie around naked together all day."

Kate turned her head towards him, but he kept his eyes trained on the fan, his serious face in place. She smiled and then looked back up at the ceiling, the grin firmly in place.

"We could do that in New York, you know."

He let a small, happy smile tweak his lip up before he sighed and then rolled over to the nightstand.

"Speaking of New York…" Tossing Kate her phone and using his to dial home, he sat up from the bed to leave the room so they could update their respective New Yorkers.

Kate rubbed the shiny surface of her phone with a thumb, assembling her words before she called Lanie. She listened to the phone ringing in her ear, still laying back on the bed and refusing to move.

"Kate? Thank god. I've been worried sick. You better damn well be in an airport and on your way home right now."

Kate smiled. "Hey, Lanie. How's everything in New York?"

"How's everything in New York? How's everything in—this is not the _time_ for updates on my life. I want to know why you are calling and I want to know now."

"We got him."

Silence.

"You what?"

"We got him. Tyson is dead. It's a kind of long story, but he basically kidnapped our waitress, lured us onto a boat, sailed us out to sea, and then accidentally hung himself."

"He accidentally hung himself?"

"Yeah. Some harpoon contraption got wrapped around his neck and he fell overboard. Strangled right there in front of us."

"Well if that isn't poetic justice then I don't know what is."

Kate laughed and meant it. "That's exactly what Rick said."

Lanie jumped. "Rick, is it?"

Kate sighed and rolled her eyes. They'd finally put an end to one hell of a serial killer and Lanie fixated on the use of Castle's first name. "Yes, Lanie. Rick."

"So is it safe to assume that the newspaper article that is currently magnetized to my dead body drawers is the whole truth and nothing but the truth?"

"So help me, god."

"Halleluja."

"Well. I haven't actually read the article, so I don't know what's true and what isn't. But yes, we are together."

"I'm glad for you, Kate. He loves you."

"I know."

She could practically hear Lanie smiling through the phone and it made her smile too.

"Okay. I've got another call to make. I'll be home soon though."

"Okay. I'll get the full story out of you then."

"Sure. Whatever you say…"

Kate hung up on her friend and then dialed up Esposito before she could over think it and chicken out. She wasn't afraid of them. She wasn't afraid that the call would go unanswered. She wasn't afraid that they'd call her Kate instead of Beckett or Boss. She wasn't afraid that they would resent her for leaving. Resent her for not saying goodbye. Resent her for not taking them with her. She wasn't afraid.

Except she was.

Before she had time to put it off for another day or so, Esposito picked up the phone.

"Hey, Beckett. How's the other coast looking? They turn you into a hippie yet?"

Kate was more relieved to hear his greeting than she'd been for almost anything else in her life. She could hear all the things he'd left unsaid and knew that they would stay unsaid. _I understand_, _Get back here right now_, _We aren't mad_, _Next time take us with you_.

"Hey, Esposito. You guys managing to stay on this side of the law without me there?"

"I dunno, man. I'm about this close to permenantly punching Ryan's face in if he doesn't _get the hell away from my face_. Dude. You are too close."

Kate covered her lips to laugh as she heard Ryan's distinct voice push its way through the line.

"Hey, Beckett. Got any updates for us?"

"Yeah I've got an update. Put me on speaker."

"You are broadcasting to the general public, now. Choose your words wisely; I know how you like to drop bombs now and then."

"We got him. Tyson's dead. Managed to strangle himself with one of his ropes on accident. Didn't even have to lift a finger."

"So here we were feeling bad for you doing all the work out there, when _really_ he was doing the hard part for you?" Ryan's voice jokingly accused her.

"You're basically just on vacation up there, smootching on your man." And there was Esposito, pushing the line of what he knew she'd let him get away with.

"Yeah. That's it, boys. My idea of a vacation is chasing a deranged man across the country."

"Well, sure chasing Castle is hard work but I bet he lets you handcuff him in the end. Am I right?"

She could hear Ryan receiving a congratulatory high-five from Esposito for his joke.

"Not the deranged man I was referring to."

"Still fits, though."

"I guess it does, Esposito." She paused and tried to figure out what else she wanted to say, but came up shy of anything profound or appropriate. "I'll be back in New York soon. I bought you all tie-dyed "Save All The Trees" shirts so you can fit in with me and my new hippie culture."

"You bring back anything multicolored and we will ship you right back."

"Bye, guys."

"Bye, Beckett," they sounded off in unison before she hung up, a small but uncontrollable smile on her face.

The door cracked open almost immediately after she'd laid the phone down on her chest, still holding it in both hands. He must have been waiting at the door for her to finish up. It didn't bug her that he'd probably been listening. She would have told him anyway.

"So how'd it go?"

"Good. The boys are good."

"They resent you and kick you out of the club?"

She narrowed her eyes, slightly miffed that he read her irrational fears so well.

"No. Everything was just…exactly the same."

He smiled like he knew exactly how much that meant to her. He flopped down beside her again and pulled a hand off her phone so he could link pinkies with her.

"Good. I'm glad to hear it. Alexis and my mother are doing well. Couldn't quite get a read on Alexis' reaction to the news…I need to see her eyes to be able to tell."

"We'll be home soon and you can stare deeply into her eyes and creep her out then."

"Planning on it."

They laid there until Kate found herself in that uncertain state of half dream, half reality. Teetering on the edge with the heavy sensation of mentally departing, Castle moved closer to her before stretching out an arm behind her head, offering himself up as a second pillow.

"Let's try and sleep a bit." He whispered into her hair as she took advantage of his warm chest.

"Mmmm."

* * *

><p><em>AN: Guess what? I finished this with less than a week between updates! The speed of this particular chapter comes to you as a thank you to a special person out there. I do not remember who you are, but you asked for a speedy update and world peace. I'm still working on the latter, but I think you'll know it when I'm done. There will be rainbows and lots less bombs._

_Reviews are very very very welcome. I broke 2000 on my last chapter, which was unbelievably amazing. Keep them coming. Tell me what you liked, didn't like (try and keep those parts minimal), and what you want to see in the future. _

_ONLY TWO CHAPTERS LEFT._


	49. Chapter 49

_Previously in Apples & Cherries…They sort of just bummed around in bed and flashed back to the events following the Feds picking them up. Castle called Alexis. Beckett called Lanie and the boys._

* * *

><p><span>Chapter Forty-Nine:<span>

Rick devoured the smell of New York. It was heavily tainted with the scent of the airport (something like a hospital mixed with feet), but through the ventilation gaps of the boarding Jetway, he could pick up the precious hints of New York air filtering in. Cooking pavement. Discarded cigarettes. The East River.

As much as he loved the peace of the west coast, he was a New Yorker in his heart. Turning his head, he caught Kate breathing it in and smiled. Something told him the same was true for her if the first thing they both did after stepping off the plane was sniff up any hint they could get of their dear city. Addicts fresh from a product low.

They pushed their way up the carpeted path at a slight incline, feeling it bounce very lightly with each step. He was still tired. Almost an entire day of sleeping next to Kate still hadn't been enough to recharge his batteries. He'd been running on straight adrenaline and the occasional meal for far too long now; even those tight jeans in the back of his closet were hanging loose on his hips now. He couldn't wait to just get home, cook a huge meal, and eat until he was big and fat and sleepy. Kate looked like she could do with a similar type of food therapy. Her cheekbones were more prominent than usual and the jut of her clavicle was sharp enough to poke out against her shirt.

"Wanna eat dinner with us tonight?"

He turned his head to meet her gaze, eyebrows raised in a "no pressure" invitation.

"If it's okay with Alexis and Martha. They may want you all to themselves for a bit. It's probably been…rough for them. Not knowing the details of what you were doing."

"They'll want you there too. And then we can both fill them in on what happened. Not too detailed, of course."

"Of course."

"But I don't want to hide anything from them either. I don't think that's what they need."

She nodded in agreement and they walked the rest of the way to baggage claim in silence. Neither of them had checked bags, so they simply passed the carousel with the ever-growing crowd and moved out into the muggy air of the late summer. Castle scanned the swarm of people, eyes on the small section of drivers holding up signs for their intended passengers.

He had debated asking his mother and daughter to pick them up from the airport, but it just hadn't seemed right. No matter how badly he wanted to see them, it could wait. The airport lobby was no place for a reunion and the ride home was no place for catching up. He'd called ahead and set something up with the car company he normally used. Spotting the sign for "Castle", he steered Kate toward the heavily moustached man, more than ready to get in the car and go home.

…

The ride was quiet between the two, just as the plane had been. Kate stared out the window, watching her city roll by, perhaps looking to see if it had changed in some way in her absence. Opaque with nighttime and car exhaust, the air weighed heavily down on them with the comfortable familiarity of an old friend.

Kate snuck her hand across the backseat and linked her pinky through his. He smiled and gave it a tiny squeeze, watching as the gesture made the very tips of her lips curl upwards. He was glad for that hint of a smile; it meant her silence was benign. The quiet snaps of raindrops against the windshield stood out amongst the noises of traffic deep in the city. He hadn't even realized the thick, grey sky had been holding back rain. It had felt like a security blanket, protecting the city of New York.

They'd just left the most notoriously rainy division of the United States only to be confronted with more. It seemed to follow them. He didn't mind, though. Castle had always enjoyed New York in the rain. He'd watch as the streets virtually emptied and people disappeared into jackets in shades of grey and umbrellas that jostled each other as they passed.

He liked the way it washed away the fine powder of tiny aerial flotsam from the surfaces, leaving everything clean—or as clean as anything ever really got on the streets of New York City. The world came out brighter after a rain. Relieved, revived, resurgent. His city knew how to rain unlike any other place. It could hit you with a monsoon with little more warning than a weighty clap of thunder and a shift in the wind.

He let his head fall back onto the headrest to stare at Kate. The smile that had plucked at her mouth was still in place. Perhaps she too was ruminating on the blessings of a good rain. The car slowed and the tires spun up small, wet tails from the disturbed, freshly laid puddles. They sat unmoving next to each other.

Home.

They were finally home. Together. Not one of them off on the wrong coast chasing after a deranged psycho with a penchant for ropes and revenge. After taking a moment to draw in the feeling of loose ends tying, they came to the mutual unspoken agreement to exit the car. The rain was still light enough not to soak them as they hitched their bags over their shoulders and Castle tipped the driver for the ride.

Kate slipped her hand into his and they walked side by side into his building, cold compared to the humid heat that swamped the streets outside. They made their way to the elevator and waited as it was called down to the ground floor. They still hadn't spoken to each other and Castle began to wonder if perhaps he should come up with something to say. After thinking emptily for a moment, he realized that the silence was most likely due to the fact that he simply had nothing worthy to say.

The elevator lifted them as they crowded closer together, ignoring the ample space allotted to them for the journey up. Her hand was an icicle and his was a furnace, giving each other exactly what they needed. Soothing and comforting for both. When the slight drop at the halting of the elevator toyed with their stomachs, he held her hand tighter and she looked up into his eyes with a smile before walking out.

They reached his door and he lifted his key to the lock, eager to enter. Suddenly, her hand stopped his, reaching out to press it down. She held the thick muscles of his thumb and his eyes watched hers, waiting for an explanation.

It never came.

She tugged on his hand, bringing him flush against her body before she pushed up on her toes, finding his mouth. She tasted like New York, if that was even possible. Dark and rich and full of possibility. Their hands released each other and found new holds elsewhere. Hers slid up to his jaw. His pulled on her hips. After years of watching her draw her lower lip between her teeth, it sent a rush of novel familiarity when she latched onto his own. The pinch and the pull of it seemed to tug up a whole new level of need in him.

He pushed his hand around and up her back, hiking her shirt up with it and driving her body harder into his. She moaned and he took the opportunity to brush his tongue to hers, strong enough to draw the moan out a little longer but brief enough to leave her wanting more. It was some special kind of wonder to have Kate Beckett want you.

He hadn't realized she'd been walking him backwards until his back bumped against the solid surface of the door. He felt trapped by her hands, her lips, her legs, her hips. He was the most willing prisoner in this cage of her body. Throw away the key, please. Never let him out. His hand dropped down to dip just slightly below the waistband of her pants, feeling the beginnings of the delicious curve there. He slid his hand further and squeezed.

She laughed even as she pushed herself closer into him, lips still devouring his. He was getting the impression that she had no more control over stopping this runaway train of a kiss than he did. Finally, the hand that had made it into his hair gave a rough tug, assisting her in the need to pull away. He kinda liked it.

"Ready?" she asked him, still breathing a bit heavily.

"Uh…"

She smirked at him, that sexy, I-know-what-I-just-did-to-you look ruthlessly teasing him from her eyes.

She patted his chest and fiddled around with the collar of his shirt, straightening imaginary asymmetry. "Can't kiss you like that in front of Alexis and your mother. But couldn't go all night without one."

"Uh…"

"Now come on, Rick. Are you ready for it to all be officially over?"

"Dear god, yes."

He shoved the key into the door and then let them both in, his heart still beating madly in his chest, wondering when the next time she'd kiss him like that would be. Hopefully soon. Now would be good. And then for every second of the next year or two.

"Dad!"

Alexis was already halfway down the stairs and by the time he was fully inside, she'd jumped the last three to skid towards him in her socks. He wrapped his arms tightly around her and she squeezed him back so hard that it almost hurt a little.

"Hey, kid."

She pulled back and smiled up at him. Her eyes twinkled, but he could still see a bit of darkness in them. Maybe it would never truly go away. Maybe her eyes would always be that half a tint darker blue from the things they'd been forced to see. Not to mention the blaringly obvious brown hair.

At least the eye twinkle was back, though. Bright sides. He had to look at bright sides.

"I thought I heard something at the door. You ready for dinner? Grams and I cooked chicken and veggies. Nothing fancy, but we made a lot of it. I'm guessing you're hungry?"

"Starved."

He released his daughter, stroking a brown bang out of her face and then turned to look back at Kate. His mother had walked into the room from somewhere upstairs and currently had her arm around Kate's shoulders.

"I swear, when my son called and said he was bringing you too, Alexis nearly exploded with excitement."

"Grams!"

"Well, you did."

Alexis turned to Kate, speaking in a tone of voice that was clearly trying to tamp down the embarrassment of being outed by her grandmother. "I'm just glad to be able to see you too. Dad wasn't the only one I worried about."

Kate smiled warmly at her. "I'm glad to see you too, Alexis."

Hoping to give both his girls a break, Castle clapped his hands and rubbed them together. "Now what was that about chicken and veggies I was hearing?"

Martha rolled her eyes, but beckoned him into the kitchen, where the scent of dinner was stronger and made his mouth water. They all filled their plates and glasses assembly line style before taking seats around the kitchen table. The first few minutes of the meal were spent with no other noise but the scraping of metal forks against ceramic plates and muted chewing.

After Castle had finished his first round and loaded his plate up with seconds, he cleared his throat and prepared to start some conversation. Now that the gaping hole in his stomach was filled with delicious chicken, he could actually focus on something other than food.

"So how have the past couple of days been without me, sweetie? Everything run smoothly?"

Alexis spoke around her mouthful of chicken, hiding it from view behind her hand. "Everything was fine, Dad. We just watched TV and stuff. I wanna know about what _you_ were up to."

The sounds of clinking silverware diminished as the four people at the table prepared themselves for the start of what would inevitably be an important conversation.

"Right. Well where do you want me to start from?"

Alexis' eyes bored into his, all traces of youth erased and replaced by something far more eager and needy.

"I just want to know how."

"How we found him or—"

"No. How he died, please."

Castle's eyes shifted over to Kate's. She was already staring at him intently, probably wondering exactly how much he would say. He wished he knew what would be best for Alexis' healing process. Tell her everything? Tell her the gist of it? Tell her that she didn't need to know the details, but only that he was gone forever?

"That's actually a bit difficult to explain. The mechanics of it were…complicated to say the least." Looking up and meeting only her unyielding blue eyes, he continued, "He'd lured us onto a boat by taking our waitress hostage then sailed us out to sea. He'd rigged up some sort of a…uh…"

"Trap. So that your father and I couldn't take him down without harming the waitress," Kate filled in.

"Right. A trap. Anyway, the thing malfunctioned and he ended up hanging himself over the side of the boat on accident. That's how he died."

Alexis let her body fall back against her chair, releasing a gusty breath that seemed to have been trapped there for ages.

"And the waitress?"

"Perfectly fine."

"Good. So he didn't hurt anyone else?"

He opened and closed his mouth a few times. He wanted to tell her the truth, he really did. He was always a strong proponent for sharing the hard truths with his daughter. Lies were just never worth it. However, the hope in her eyes that Tyson's second round of terrorism had been entirely victimless physically hurt him to see. He didn't want to contribute to taking away any single speck of her remaining innocence. He didn't want to do it.

He felt Kate's hand slide over his own, cool and calming.

"Actually, Alexis. An FBI agent was also killed in the line of duty. He went with us to help rescue the waitress and bring Tyson in, but Tyson got to him first."

Alexis' eyes were fixed on Kate and Castle could tell she was hanging on every word. While he could see that her shoulders slumped a bit more and the edges of her eyes were red, her chin was up and her jaw was set. She was accepting it. Grieving it, but accepting it.

"Oh."

"Speaking as an officer of the law, he died honorably. An honorable death doesn't make up for the loss of a life, but it's something."

Alexis and Martha nodded in sync and Castle squeezed Kate's hand in thanks. She gave him a close-lipped, sad smile in return.

Martha cleared her throat and set her water glass back on the table, giving them a slight nod. "So you two are official now, then?"

Castle gave a short but light laugh. Of course that's what his mother would pick up on during a conversation about the downfall of a serial killer. That he and Kate were holding hands.

"Yes, mother. We're together."

Kate's sad smile had morphed into something filled completely with amusement and relief.

"Well, I'm glad for the both of you. And for me, come to think of it. I don't have to keep dropping hints. It was getting very tiring, dear. Worked a hell of a number on my wrinkles."

"Ah, well that _is_ the prime reason we decided to get together. To keep your face aesthetically pleasing."

She smacked his arm for his sass before standing up and retreating to the kitchen to refill her water.

"I, for one, wouldn't mind just sitting down and relaxing for the next half century." She walked her water glass into the living room and grabbed the remote from the coffee table, waving it freely in the air, "Anyone for some mindless TV? Rebecca Donnell managed to somehow snag the role of Carmen's estranged mother in _And The World Turned_ and I'm just dying to find out how. It clearly wasn't her acting skill."

Rick saw straight through his mother's grand display of unflappability. Her makeup wasn't quite covering the deep impressions under her eyes and her hands had a bit of a shake to them. She was doing this for them: trying to help them heal in her own way by offering them an alley into normalcy.

"I take it you were up for the role?" he responded, standing from his own chair to join her and hearing Alexis and Kate follow suit.

"Oh, please. That role was far too beneath me. I'm simply astounded that Rebecca managed to get hired on a show with a female director. It's not like she could sleep her way onto the set this time."

Kate snorted a laugh and Alexis gasped out a "Grams!" Suddenly Rick was infinitely grateful that his mother was willing to put on this show of imperturbability for them. They all settled on various portions of furniture before he selected the episode from the DVR list.

Alexis had her feet curled up under her and her head lying on her arms over the back of the couch. She looked uncomfortably twisted, so he pulled at her elbow until she switched to resting her head on his shoulder. Kissing her hair and then her forehead, he wrapped his arm around her before turning his head to look at Kate.

She was sitting almost exactly where he'd woken up to find her that one night weeks ago after he'd shot Kack. That night when the blue light had flooded over her face like a weak fog and the shadows of her eyelashes had seemed to stretch on forever. It seemed like that night had been from another life entirely. So much had changed since then.

If the faraway look on her face was anything to go by, Kate was having similar thoughts. She leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss into the hollow of his cheek, lingering long enough for him to feel a single exhalation of her breath against his skin. Instead of pulling back to look at him, she simply ducked down and rested her head on his other shoulder, pulling his free hand onto her lap to hold.

He looked up to find his mother's attention far away from Rebecca Donnell and the melodrama on the screen. She had one of those rare and honest smiles just barely gracing her face, like she knew a secret that the rest of the world would never figure out. He smiled back at her and they shared a private moment in the dim lighting of the room.

…

Sometime during the second episode of the show, Kate had fallen asleep against his shoulder. He could feel each deep breath release against the fabric of his shirt, warming him with humid, gentle air. His mother still stood guard, her eyes locked on the TV, but obviously thinking about something a million miles away. Alexis was awake, but she wasn't even pretending to watch the show.

"Hey, kiddo," he whispered, "Want to come look at the skyline with me?"

"It's raining, Dad."

"Not that hard. We'll stay under the overhang so you don't melt or anything."

She gave him that adorable "I only barely tolerate you" smile and then stood in a tacit agreement to his compromise. He maneuvered himself from under Kate's head, letting her lie on the cushion of the back of the couch instead. Unthreading their fingers, he stood to follow Alexis out onto the balcony. The balconies of his building did not hang on the main street-side façade, but were wrapped around the back.

Alexis had left the glass door to the balcony open and was leaning up against the brick of the wall, looking out over the city. The lights of the neighboring buildings sparked in her eyes, which were dark as they took in the rainy night. Maybe it was her new hair, but she seemed far older than 17.

"You know, I love your red hair, but you look beautiful as a brunette too."

"Thanks, Dad."

"Are you going to keep it?"

"I don't know. Maybe for the rest of the summer, but I'll probably go back to red before school starts. The last thing I want is a hundred questions about why I dyed it."

Oh, that bait was way too tempting to leave alone. "Why _did _you dye it?"

She glanced over at him, before pulling her eyes back to the inanimate life of the New York skyline.

"I don't really know. Didn't want to be blonde. Red just reminded me of how I was…before. Brown was really the only other option unless I wanted something drastic like blue or purple."

"Blue woulda matched your eyes nicely."

"Dad," she rolled her eyes at his stupid joke.

He walked closer to her and pulled her into a hug, trying to channel all of his love into the circuit of his arms around her. If he concentrated hard enough, maybe he could form a sort of force field of love that would protect her from everything else.

"It's almost Beckett's color. Grams was right."

"I know. I figured if I was going to change how I saw myself in the mirror, I should probably pick a color that reminds me of strength. Resiliance. So I aimed for Kate's color."

Giving her a little extra squeeze, he continued, "Well, I don't give a damn what color your hair is as long as you are happy."

"Thanks."

They stood there wrapped up in each other, listening to the small river of rain funnel off of the roof and splatter to the ground below. He breathed her in. Not the baby smell of her infant years, not the strawberry jam from when she was a kid, not the weekly change of Bath and Body Works scents from middle school, and not even the apricot of her teen years he'd been most recently accustomed to. There was no artificial scent to her tonight. She just smelled like Alexis. Like his daughter. Like home and sunshine and potential energy.

"Are you? Happy?"

"I'll get there."

He let out huge breath and then peppered her soft hair with kisses.

"I hate this."

"I'm not a fan either. But I really am going to be okay, Dad. He can't hurt anybody else and I'm working really hard on healing."

"If you need anyth—"

"I know. You've got my back. You always do."

The depth in the meaning of her words did not escape him. He hadn't failed her. He'd pulled through. He'd saved her. He looked at her face and saw flashes of the young girl of his memories overlaid by flickers of the woman she was fast becoming. It was such a beautiful amalgamation that his heart broke a bit to see it.

…

The warmth beneath Kate's cheek had fled. Her eyes fluttered open, taking in her surroundings and trying to figure out why her cheek was no longer being supplied with a steady stream of heat. She lifted her head from the back of the leather couch, hearing the bones crack against each other in simultaneous protest and relief.

Stretching out her back to crack the bones there too, she turned toward the TV that was still playing the end of the episode they had been watching when she'd fallen asleep. Martha's eyes were still staring at the screen, but Kate could absolutely tell that the woman's peripherals were locked on her.

Kate leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees, waiting for the silence between them to inevitably break. Martha looked like she was gathering thoughts and Kate would let her have all the time she needed. After a few more moments, Martha turned to her and mirrored her position from her chair.

"My son loves you."

Kate couldn't keep the smile from plucking at the corner of her lips. She couldn't help it. Rick _did_ love her, and that was something to smile about. Bowing her head down slightly in a nod, she let the smile grow a bit more behind the veil of her hair.

"I know."

Martha nodded and then leaned so far forward in her chair that Kate wasn't sure exactly how much of her was still perched upon it.

"I mean he _really _loves you."

Kate wasn't sure how she was supposed to respond. She did know that Rick _really_ loved her, didn't she? An affirmation was clearly not what Martha was seeking in this conversation. She settled for one of her favorite interrogation techniques: Shut the hell up and let them do the talking.

"I've known for a while that he cared deeply for you. A mother always knows these things. It was in his eyes when he told stories about you. It was the fact that _every_ story was about you. But I had no idea…"

"Kinda hits you hard doesn't it? Finding out how much?"

Martha threw her head back and laughed, full and unrestrained. "Yes, exactly. It's more than love, though. There's not a word for it, my dear."

Kate drew her eyes downward, avoiding the truth radiating from Martha, but it didn't slow the woman from making her point.

"There's no word in any human language that could possibly hope to contain the meaning of what my son feels for you."

Kate's eyes lifted once again, unable to escape the gravitational pull of the words.

"He…we…Martha, I know that he loves me. I know what I've been given."

"Do you?"

"He's the best gift fate has ever handed me. I'd never throw that away. He means…he means everything to me."

Kate could almost see the relief wash across Martha's face, but the actress was far too in control of her expressions for Kate to be certain.

"He'd do anything for you, Kate. Follow you anywhere. To the ends of the earth. And I guess I need to thank you for following him right back. It's not enough, but you will have my eternal gratitude. I love Alexis and my son with every fiber of my being and I know I have you to thank that they are still here and home safe. So, thank you for going to the ends of the earth for them."

Kate leaned back against the leather of the sofa. This had by far been the most unique "treat my son right" talk she'd ever had. It was actually the only one she'd ever had. Martha had an amazing son and it was every inch within her right to protect him. Rick really _did_ love her. He really was her shadow. He really would follow her anywhere. She softly repeated Martha's words to the darkly flickering air and to herself, a confirmation and an acceptance.

"…To the ends of the earth."

* * *

><p><em>AN: Alrighty then. It's been a while. Med school kinda got ACTUALLY hard there for a while, so I didn't have much time for writing. Thank you all for being such wonderful and patient readers!_

_The next and final chapter will probably hit the site later this week. I've already written it all, but only in my head. Don't you wish that counted?_

_I'd love to hear from you guys again with some reviews of the chapter, previous chapters, or what you might like to see in the next chapter. I've got a pretty solid plan, but there is wiggle room if anyone has awesome ideas. Have I mentioned how awesome you are, lately?_

_I really missed our interactions._


	50. Chapter 50

_Previously in Apples & Cherries…Kate and Castle finally came home. Rick was able to talk with Alexis alone about hair, healing, and helping. Martha and Kate had a nice little chat as well. Apparently, you guys liked that scene._

_**Warning:** this is complete_

* * *

><p><span>Chapter Fifty:<span>

"Personally, Beckett? I don't give a damn. What you did was professional suicide, ain't no other way to say it. No one pushed you into this."

This was not promising.

Kate stood in front of her captain, shoulders squared and snapped to attention. She fought to keep her eyes up and locked with Montgomery's. She'd walked into the precinct this morning, knowing it was going to be one of the hardest conversations she'd ever had. She'd have to fight for this. Fight for her job. Fight for her passion.

When she'd entered the captain's office not two minutes ago, he hadn't even looked up. That crease in his temple had pulsed and his upper lip stiffened, but other than that, he was blank. She'd expected him to start the conversation and when he hadn't, she found that she had no clue what to say. She had points that she'd gone over in her mind, things that he needed to hear, reasons he should give her a second chance, but nothing to open the actual conversation. _So, remember that time I resigned?_

He'd finally spoken first after forcing her to suffer his silence for far too long. It was a cool and calm voice with which he addressed her. Distant. Unforgiving. That was minutes ago and she still hadn't spoken.

"You walk back in here—back into my office—and are looking for what? A second chance? Slap on the wrist? I'm sorry, Beckett, but my hands are tied here. You voluntarily gave up the gun and badge. You resigned. Nothin' I can do."

"Sir, if I could just say—"

"What? That it was for Castle? That your behavior should be excused because it was for the man you love? Don't give me that look, Beckett. I know you love him. Doesn't change anything. There's no loophole for sacrificial acts of love."

Bleak. Her vision was tunneling. She hadn't expected this to be easy, by any means, but she'd thought she might have a chance. She thought maybe Montgomery would take into account the circumstances and the situation. But he was set firmly in position, not willing to bend. Not even for her.

Maybe if she pushed harder. Convince him. Show him.

Her voice reeked of desperation. "Sir, it was Alexis. I had to. I know you know that. It was for Alexis and for Rick. I'd do it again—"

He stood suddenly, interrupting her and jabbing a finger in her direction. "You better damn well never do it again! Next time take the time to convince me. Next time get your evidence together. Next time present your case with more than the absolute _nothing_ you gave me to go on. How long do you think it would have taken to convince me, Beckett? You're a damn fool. You quit on this job and you quit on me. A minute. That's all the leeway you gave me to be on your side. One _minute_ before you quit. Tell me why I should be on your side now."

"It was for him. For them. I had to."

He dropped into his chair again, head cradled in his hands. He spoke from underneath them.

"You didn't have to do it like that, Beckett. There were a hundred different ways to go about this. A hundred better ways."

"I didn't—I couldn't-I couldn't think, Sir. All I could think was to get to him. I couldn't separate. I wasn't rational. I was stupid, I know. But I couldn't think!"

He leaned back in his chair and it squeaked achingly on its hinges. Sighing like it could somehow relieve the situation, he stared at her. The brittle bones, the dark circles, the jut of her ribs against her shirt, he took it all in.

"This is one hell of a position you've put me in."

"I know, sir." The apology was in her voice, tacked onto her response like a lamprey.

He pulled open the large bottom drawer of his desk, the small wheels rumbling along the tracks like thunder. He withdrew her gun and badge from within, setting them down on the table between them. She stared at them, her missing appendages. Hungry. She wanted them so badly. She craved the safe weight of the Glock at her hip and the cool metal of the badge under her fingers.

"I'm going to hang on to these. You don't get them back." Her heart plummeted. "Yet."

A spark of hope.

"Yet?"

"You did a real stupid thing, Beckett. I could keep you out of this precinct for good and no one would bat an eye at my decision. But I know you and I know why you did it. You're still one hell of a cop and I'd be depriving this city of one of it's greatest assets if I held you to your resignation. So I won't."

"Oh, Thank y—"

"I'm not finished. This isn't okay. What you did wasn't okay. You are, starting now, suspended without pay for two weeks. When that time is up, you will enter back into your position on probation. I'll decide how long that is, and believe me…it will be long enough. Esposito's been doing a damn good job heading up the team and I'm going to let him continue. You will damn well earn my trust back before I let you in with full responsibilities."

Whatever. Anything. She'd take anything.

"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir."

"I'll make sure Esposito knows. See you in two weeks."

She gave him a nod, tried to put her gratitude in her eyes, and then stepped out of his office. Her entire body trembled like she'd just chugged an entire vat of coffee. Her hands were freezing; the blood had left them long ago, retreating to her vital organs. She took a few calming breaths, trying to wipe away the remnants of her fight-or-flight response.

"Yo, Beckett? You good? You're lookin' a little pale."

She snapped her head to the side. Ryan and Esposito were walking into the precinct, fresh from tracking down a lead. Her body pulsed with the need to join the hunt.

"I'm fine," she replied. "Not a lot of sun in Washington. You expect me to come back tan?"

Ryan answered, "No, but we expected you to come back a little happier to see us. What's the matter? Didn't you miss us?"

"Nah, bro. She was off canoodling Castle the whole time. You think she was thinking of us?"

"Dear god I hope not." Ryan scrunched his face in disgust.

"Hey. Cool it, boys, or I won't give you your presents."

"You got us presents?"

"No. Castle got you presents."

"Even better." Esposito bumped Ryan's fist.

"Yeah. Whaddaya think? Advanced copy of an upcoming game?"

"Season tickets to the Knicks?"

"Nah, I bet it's something even better. Like a robot butler."

Esposito gave his partner a judging look. "Seriously? Your bet is on a robot butler?"

Before the conversation could get even more out of hand, Kate reached under her recently unused desk for the bag that she'd stashed below. Taking out the hideous shirts, she threw each of them one.

"What is_ this_?"

"Tie-dye?"

"I can't wear this."

"I don't know, Esposito," she teased with a smirk, "I think the blending of the purple and pink really brings out your eyes."

Ryan held his shirt up against his chest, checking the size, while Esposito flung his over one shoulder.

"Tell your boyfriend thanks. We won't be forgetting these gifts any time soon."

Kate smiled. "Stop acting tough. We all know you are just dying to get home and try it on."

"Oh yeah. You know it."

There was a bit of a pause between the three of them. The dynamic that had been missing of late took time to stretch out in the spaces between them, acclimating to its reactivation. Kate let herself bask in the wholeness of the feeling she had near Ryan and Esposito. She hadn't realized how much she had missed them and how much they really enhanced the crime solving experience. She'd missed their tenacity and eagerness, the raw, go-for-the-throat mentality of Esposito and the quick-witted enthusiasm of Ryan.

Her eyes fell back to Montgomery's office. Two more weeks and she'd have it back. Until then, she should probably leave. She didn't want to push her luck with the Captain or her welcome at the station.

"Alright, boys. I've got better things to do than watch the two of you model your new shirts." She grabbed her purse from under the desk and fished out her keys, letting the key ring dangle off her index finger before she swung it in a circle. "I'll be back in two weeks. Behave yourselves."

"Did you hear that, Esposito? Another two weeks of vacation time."

"Come on, bro. You know it's just honeymoon syndrome. She's off to schtupp Castle for two weeks."

Smiling slyly, Kate said, "Exactly. So don't bug me for two weeks, guys. I'll be too fucking busy and vice versa."

Both their jaws hit the floor. She allowed herself one last glance over her shoulder to watch as Ryan's eyes slowly grew in shock and understanding, Esposito's with approval and amusement. Making her way to the elevator, she rounded the corner with a secret smile hiding in her lips. She'd been teasing…But also not.

Her smile grew.

…

Castle leaned back against the uneven stones of the Glen Span Arch, and shifted in vain as they poked stubbornly into his ribs and spine, unwilling to compromise. He was early. This morning, he'd slept in and then dropped Alexis off at her therapy appointment, trying hard to figure out how to be supportive but not clingy. It proved difficult when all he wanted to do was swathe her in bubble wrap and sit with her in a meadow of flowers and soft grass. With rainbows. Unicorns.

_Was that asking so much?_

Kate had left his house last night so late that it was actually just incredibly early. She refused his offer of a ride and opted to take a cab home, citing his need to just stay in the loft with his family. After he'd come inside from his talk with Alexis on the balcony, he'd found Kate and his mother discussing questionable character motivations in _And the World Turned_.

From his mother's refusal to meet his eye and Kate's over-interest in the show, he gathered that that wasn't _at_ _all_ what they'd been talking about before. Must've heard his approach and switched subjects. He'd made a note to ask Kate about it later, but for the time being he had let them get away with the charade.

He had wanted Kate to stay at his place that night, just to round out the feeling of "we are all okay and together" that had been cultured so organically through the dinner and conversations in his loft. But as soon as he had mentioned it, he knew her answer would be a no. He saw that determined little crease settle in between her brows and her eyes turned up to him, supplicating him to not push it. She had big plans to visit the precinct and deal with the fallout of the last week in person, like a big girl.

So he hadn't pushed. He'd let her find her own way home so that she could take the time to mentally prepare herself for the morning to come. Before allowing her gorgeously independent side to separate them completely for the night, he'd asked her to meet with him after she was done. West Central Park at the north end of the Loch, under the Glen Span Arch. It wouldn't be nearly as crowded with tourists as the major bridges and he'd promised her food if she'd show.

After dropping Alexis off this morning, he'd found he didn't want to go home. Her grandmother would be picking her up from her appointment in only about an hour and he had to meet Kate soon anyway. He had chosen to walk to a little Greek restaurant on West 97th and Columbus and pick up enough food for an army before walking the relatively short distance to the Glen Span arch. His legs were tired by the time he'd finally made it there and the smell of delicious food was tempting him from the heavy bag at his side.

The sun was stifling as it followed its track to its peak in the sky. The rain from last night had not carried over into this day and there was no sign it had even happened other than the slightly more humid air and softer dirt. His back was cooking against the outer stones of the arch, so he pushed off to stand underneath it instead. Here, it was drastically cooler and he wiped the beading sweat on his brow with his shoulder, more than ready to accept the shade's offering.

Before the almost liquid-cool feeling of the dark stones against his back could even begin to soak through his shirt, his peripherals caught a sight that heated him right back up. He swiveled his head to take her in fully. She was walking towards him with that heart stopping gait of hers, wearing a light pink button down tucked neatly into grey trousers. His heart rate sped up as she threw him a smile like a song laced with sunlight. His feet were moving to meet her halfway without him even asking them to. _Good feet_.

He leaned in and brushed a kiss over the arch of her cheekbone, savoring the feverish dance of his heart. When she was near, it was lightning striking a cherry tree, all blossoms and sizzle. The flash of teeth, the spark of a stare, the heady, reigning scent that lingered everywhere. He could feel the settle of ozone from this encounter and found himself wishing that just this time the bolt would strike a little bit closer, maybe straight through him.

"Hey."

"Hey, yourself. What did you bring me? I'm starved." She moved a hand down to grab at the nondescript plastic bag dangling at his side and he pulled it back out of her reach.

"Greek food, but no eating and walking. Let's find a place to sit first."

She pursed her lips in disapproval, but laced her fingers through his free hand and led him under the arch. The deep green and barely moving water to the side of the path, sparkled in the light that managed to fall through the open ends of the tunnel. A small waterfall met them on the other side and he smiled to see the appreciation in her face. The water fell happily down the rocks, white with movement and joy.

"That rock looks good."

"Kate, that rock is wet."

"Hmm. Aren't _we_ picky, today."

He led her down the path until he saw a much better, less damp option. Some large rocks sat at the base of a large gnarled tree, soft summer grass filling the spaces between everything hard. He took the few steps off the path to get to it before setting the heavy food down, looking back to make sure she approved and was following.

Her eyes were soft and spiced like cinnamon and caramel as they watched him. He liked that. He liked it even more when she walked over to meet him under the tree, watching her feet to make sure her heels didn't sink into the mud. She placed her hand on his cheek and kissed him as softly as he could bear, pulling back all too soon. She stroked the lobe of his ear affectionately before twisting around him to sit fluidly on the flat surface of a rock with more grace than he imagined a classically trained dancer could.

"Sorry I didn't bring a jacket or something for you to sit on."

"I'll be fine, Castle. Come sit and let's eat."

He picked out a patch of grass right next her, leaning his shoulder against her rock and his back against the trunk of the tree. Spreading his legs out into a vee, he pulled the bag in between and started to unload the contents. Olives, tomatoes, onions, feta, flatbread, lamb, tzatziki, dolma, and hummus. He watched as Kate's eyes grew even hungrier as the veritable feast appeared before her. Tossing a water bottle up to her, he cracked his own open and then popped a dolma in his mouth.

Just as he bit down on the giant mouthful of grape leaves and rice, his phone rang loudly from his pocket. He shifted to pull it out, checked the caller ID, and then answered.

"Wrrhff tssnt muh guh frrr Shhhnn"

"What on Earth was that supposed to be, Rick?" came the voice of Shannon the reporter from his phone. He chewed as quickly as he could and swallowed a bit prematurely, forcing the bolus down hastily.

"I said 'well if it isn't my good friend Shannon.' How did you not get that?"

"Oh, I'm sorry. I don't speak Glutton."

"What do you need on this fine day, my dear Shannon. Anything for you. You really got me out of a pickle back there."

He looked up and met Kate's gaze, who was listening with great interest and chewing on a piece of lamb wrapped in flatbread. He flicked his phone on speaker so that she didn't have to strain to hear the conversation.

"That's actually exactly what I wanted to talk to you about. Don't think I didn't notice what happened that night at the symphony after our little interview. The place was absolutely swarming with cops. And then the next day, the whole city's got choppers in the air and every news station has a photo of Jerry Tyson flashing across the bottom of the screen. You promised me an exclusive and I'm here to collect."

"Ah. Yes. That. If I know you—and I think I do—you've already figured out most of it."

"Well, yes. But that doesn't change the fact that I need interviews with you to make the article legit. Now spill. This is a career-maker, I can tell."

"Tell you what, why don't I fly you down here tomorrow and you can have the interview of your dreams. Photos included."

"Will Detective Beckett be a part of the deal?"

He looked up at Kate and watched for her decision. She had her index finger hooked lightly on her lip, the nail brushing against her teeth. Her thinking face. She withdrew the finger and then nodded confidently at him.

"Yeah. She's in. No Alexis though. My daughter stays out of it, the article and the pictures."

"That's gonna make it tough."

"You can pull it off. Now should I buy you a ticket or what?"

"Are you kidding me? Yeah. Buy the ticket and start working on those famous descriptions of yours. My readers will like a bit of imagery." She hung up without a goodbye and Castle shook his head in amusement. He owed Shannon more than she knew. It was because of her article that they'd been able to 'find' Tyson so quickly. She deserved all the interviews he could give.

He leaned his head against the bole, letting a particularly huge knot cradle his neck. Moments later, he felt Kate's fingers absentmindedly sifting through his hair. Her fingertips drew patternless flourishes as the weaved along and that plus the sun was lulling him into the beginnings of a nap. He wasn't even hungry anymore, as long as her fingers kept swirling.

He drifted away…

…

She wasn't sure when he'd fallen asleep, but she noticed it after she'd eaten her third dolma. He hadn't eaten anything and when she leaned forward to peer around at his face, it was relaxed and sweet with sleep. The sun was gilding the tips of his hair with a glowing gold, making it shine beneath her fingers. Standing slowly, she moved the bag of food as quietly as she could, clearing out the space between his legs. She placed a whisper of a kiss across his lips, bending at the knees to reach him before kneeling all the way and turning to lay her back against his sun-warmed chest.

If he was going to sleep, she wanted a nap too.

His arm came to wrap around her stomach, pulling her in closer. He nuzzled his face into the corner of her neck, breathing in and kissing her softly. She closed her eyes and sighed. One of his fingers was rubbing back and forth against the fabric of her shirt and she could tell he wasn't going to go back to sleep based solely on the rhythm of the strokes.

"So…I talked to the Captain."

"How'd it go?" His arms tensed around her and she could feel his heart rate speed up for her. He sounded almost as nervous as she had felt, walking into Montgomery's office this morning.

"Well…he's not holding me to my resignation."

"Oh that's great! Kate! I'm so happy! I knew he wouldn't punish you—he loves you way too much. You are _so_ the teacher's pet. Don't deny it."

"Castle, he didn't just let me off the hook. I've been suspended without pay for two weeks and then on probation for an undisclosed amount of time. It's at his discretion."

"Oh."

"Yeah, but it doesn't matter. As long as I have a job, right?"

"Uh, right."

She turned uncomfortably around in his arms so that she could see his face. He looked…heartbroken.

"Rick, what's wrong?"

"You…you almost lost your job because of me, Kate."

"We've been over this, Castle. You knew I'd quit."

"Yeah, but I guess I never really thought it through. What it meant for you. What would you have done without the force, Kate? All because of me!"

"I would have figured something out. Could have become a licensed PI or something."

"Wouldn't have been enough for you. And it was because of me! And now? Now you have a suspension and probation on your record. It will be there forever. Any promotion you are ever up for, those will be pushing you back down. Because of me."

"Will you stop saying that? It wasn't _because _of you. I did it_ for_ you. And I'd do it again. A few marks on my record are nothing compared to what life would have been like without you. Or with you-sans-Alexis."

He didn't speak for a bit, staring out at the Loch as it fell stepwise down the rocky face of the small cliff. When he did look at her again, his eyes were still sad and a little awed.

"It's a big deal, though. You quit your job to follow me."

She turned her body completely now, needing him to see all of her. Kneeling between his legs, she took his face in both her hands and let her eyes run over his sun-kissed features.

"You have to follow your own shadow sometimes. You're a part of me and I can't separate myself from you any more than I could cut off my own leg. That's just how shadows are. It's never been a question for me if I'd follow you anywhere. Plane, car, boat. I'm there, Castle. I follow you, you follow me."

He drew her in by her waist and she fell forward slightly, bracing one of her hands on the rough bark of the tree trunk. Her nose was an inch from his and his eyes were already closing in the expectation and hope of a kiss.

He breathed her name.

She leaned in, but instead of giving him the kiss his lips wanted, she deviated the path and pressed her lips to his ear. Her heart thundered in her chest as the words spilled forth in a whisper.

"I love you."

He stopped breathing. Her auricular confession floated gently between them and she placed one more kiss behind his ear before coming back out to see his face.

It was glowing.

"You love me?"

She tried to refrain from rolling her eyes and pressed her lips together in a smile she knew he loved. Hadn't it been obvious? Of course she loved him.

"I do."

"Say it again."

She smiled at the echo of her own words.

"I love you."

She was barely able to finish the words before she was being drawn into a deep, wet, gorgeous kiss. His lips and tongue and teeth and hands were doing positively breathtaking things to her. He pulled back far enough to let in a bit of air, but left their lips touching.

"God, I love you, Kate. So much."

Then he pulled her back in for another luxurious kiss, worshipping her swollen lips with his tongue and the memory of his words. Their food was forgotten in the grass along with the rest of the world. Even when the kiss inevitably ended, the world never really rejoined them in the same way. It seemed to know that the two lovers in the grass below the bending, gnarled tree wanted their own time and space.

They were tied together by more than just hands and arms and legs and words. They were tied by fate and love and light and dark, inseparable on a level that could never be fully understood by anything less than the universe itself. Their bleeding hearts would follow each other to the ends of the earth.

"Ready to go home, Kate?"

"Sure. Lead the way."

But sometimes they just needed to follow each other home.

* * *

><p><em>AN: I shamelessly pilfered Dorothy Parker's quote about "Too fucking busy and vice versa." I thought it was a perfect line for Kate to shock and tease her boys with. The PI firm idea was CovenStine's. Thanks for that. Would make an interesting fic._

_I owe a huge un-pay-back-able thanks to the real life Shannon The Reporter for talking me off of multiple ledges, keeping me from killing off all my characters, and guiding me through the rough spots. This story would never have happened without her. _

_Thank you to each and every reviewer for taking the time to tell me what you thought. This story has been singular in its ability to draw every imaginable reaction from you guys and I really loved hearing them. Emma, your reviews always seemed to come at a time when I __**really**__ needed them and I thank you for that._

_I have absolutely LOVED writing this story (even when I had myself convinced that I didn't) and I really hope you guys have loved reading it half as much. Thank you for your support and for simply being there. Without you, I wouldn't have anyone to write for. _

_**Side note:** A lot of you are wondering when the And the World Turned sequel will be coming. My only answer is that I have no clue. I'm not really "feeling it" yet and I think it would be a huge mistake to start writing a story before I'm inspired to do it. _

_I DO have an idea for my next fic though…so keep your eyes peeled for that. Follow me on my tumblr for updates. You can find the link to it in my bio on FF._

_And now? I bid you all adieu. My heart just broke a little bit._


End file.
